Down in the Valley
by NanMeredith
Summary: Nan Blythe is about to begin college in Kingsport and has a blossoming romance with Jerry Meredith. But when the Great War breaks out, it sends Nan into a new chapter of life she never anticipated. WWI and beyond: Nan/Jerry, Jem/Faith, etc.
1. Chapter 1

Down in the Valley

Chapter 1

The mid-June morning was a fine one, the sort of rose-and-gold morning that lifts one's spirits with its promise of a beautiful day and stirs one's dreams with its friendly, gentle breeze. Glen St. Mary basked contentedly in the cool air and brimming light, which softly spilled over the emerald curves of the land and winked off of tiny dewdrops, clinging gracefully to their deliciously colored petals. Ingleside, itself, was alive with growth, yet peaceful in its morning calm. The beloved house was more quiet at this hour than was usual, allowing for one early-riser to enjoy the solitude of the verandah.

Nan Blythe sat with folded hands and enchanted eyes, looking very much like her namesake mother as she gazed unseeingly at the landscape before her, lost in some girlish daydream that only she was privy to. The rest of the Blythes were not yet up and around on this jewel of a morning, yet Nan had opened her eyes not long after first light and felt impatient to get outside and soak in the new day. Moments of solitude were rare at Ingleside—a quality most certainly not begrudged by any of the Blythes—so Nan was content to take a little time to simply indulge her imagination. Thus, she sat, daintily poised on the top step of the verandah, hands clasped and eyes shining.

Those who knew Nan well liked her for her blithe nature—with a spice of her mother's temper and vivacity, mind you—creativity, and pretty laughter. She had a mysteriously graceful way of carrying herself at all times, as if she were never afraid of missing a step in life, which endeared her to her father, recognizing Anne's trait in their daughter, and garnered the jealous remarks of intimidated girls in the Glen. She was quick to merriment among those she knew well, while those who didn't know her mistook her eagerness to appear proper for pride. Nan was, by far, the prettier of the Ingleside twins, being more of a woodland fairy than Diana, with elfin like features, striking nut-brown eyes, and silky, sugar-brown hair. Her looks matched her imaginative ways, and so she created quite a beautiful picture as she dreamed all alone in the softness of morning light. She was, at present, seeing visions of a life full of romance at Redmond College in Kingsport, where she would begin studies in the autumn with her twin. The Blythe name was already well known at Redmond, thanks to Jem and Walter, and Nan tingled with anticipation as she speculated about a new chapter in life, away from the Glen. So immersed was she in her imaginings of dimly-lit libraries, gay social events, and scholarly, handsome suitors that she was completely unaware of the tall, black-haired young man who was strolling easily towards the Ingleside gate.

Nan Blythe was the last person Jerry Meredith expected to see first thing on this fine morning, sitting alone on the front step, looking as alluring as she did in the shimmering sun. He was caught quite off guard by how lovely she was and inadvertently slowed his step as he watched her. How kissable her small, pink lips looked when she smiled faintly like that! It was the way she smiled when he would try to drag her into an argument or when she teased him. Jerry almost laughed out loud thinking of their latest debate about some silly matter in the Glen, then realized he was still standing in the middle of the lane, staring at Nan like a fool. What was the matter with him? Jerry knew he had always considered Nan to be pretty, but seeing her had never made him stand and gape like an idiot before. He set his mouth and picked up his step, just as Nan awoke from her reverie.

"Jerry Meredith! What are you doing here so early? Is Jem expecting you? If so, you'll have to wait a bit. I'm afraid I'm the only one up." Nan's pulse had begun to beat more quickly as soon as she beheld him and the words sort of tumbled out of her. What in the world made her heart skip a beat like that? She was very aware of the gaze of his impossibly dark eyes this morning, for some reason.

A sarcastic grin creased the corners of those eyes. "Well, I assumed the Blythes would have been up by now. I wasn't counting on them being so lazy," he teased, "Now are you going to allow me in or what?"

Nan, ignoring his first comment, rolled her eyes and remained where she was. "You know very well, Jerry Meredith that you can visit whenever you like. And if you think I'm going to come open that gate for you, you might as well turn around and head back to the Manse."

"I thought all the Ingleside girls were supposed to be so well mannered. I wonder what the Glen would think if they heard from the _minister's son _that Nan Blythe refuses to open the front gate for her guests."

Nan laughed. "I'm sure the Glen wouldn't think much of what the _minister's son_ had to say on manners when they all remember how horridly you behaved before your father married Rosemary." It was rather a shocking thing to say, but Jerry didn't mind such digs from Nan, and Nan would never have said to it to anyone other than Jerry.

"Well, if you're going to insult me, Miss Nan, maybe I _should_ head back to the Manse."

Nan laughed again, this time getting up and slowly making her way to where Jerry still leaned on the gate. They stood there, each on one side of the wrought-iron entrance to the Ingleside lawn, comfortable in their familiar route of debate. "Do what you will. Really, though, Jerry, what did you stop by for?"

Jerry regarded her for a moment then decided to pursue the thread of conversation, leaving the path of argument for the time being. Nan held his gaze patiently, as was her habit of doing. "I came over to discuss some details with Jem about our football league at Redmond before your clan takes off for Avonlea tomorrow." Jerry secretly decided that he was glad to see Nan before she left, as well. Suddenly, he stood up straight and opened the gate. "Say, why don't we take a brief ramble through Rainbow Valley? It's full of color this time of year and you won't see anything like it while in Avonlea."

Nan felt a little thrill at his suggestion as she slipped through the gate and fell in step beside him. It was not the first time she and Jerry had gone anywhere on their own to talk. Usually they were in the thralls of a lively conversation or debate, and the Ingleside and Manse folk were accustomed to seeing the two paired together. It had never really mattered before—not much, anyway—but for some reason, this June morning had a different air to it.

"So you and Di will be coming to Redmond this fall," Jerry said as they rambled lazily through the breeze-stirred grasses of Rainbow Valley. "Very likely you will cause some big scene that disgraces the sturdy Blythe reputation and your father will have to hide you in his house forever to recover from the shame of it. Twins are never to be trusted."

"Just as law students are never to be trusted," Nan retorted with a toss of her hair. "Oh Jerry, I'm so torn!" Nan admitted on a sudden serious note. "Father insisted on Di and me going to Kingsport rather than teach another year, and so I have easily won myself over to the idea of being at college with you and Jem and Faith. But then we are to go to Green Gables and visit all of mother's old haunts and suddenly I feel as though I were no more than a country schoolgirl, unprepared for Redmond and not quite wishing to go, either. I feel as if I belong in two different places at the same time. I love Avonlea and the Glen and being a Blythe at Ingleside, and yet, the idea of Redmond is exciting. Di is too logical to quite understand my sentiments. If only I could be as daring as Faith! Anyhow, I'm so glad she will be there with me. And you and Jem, too."

"Redmond isn't anything too terribly big and terrifying, Nan, really. If I know you at all, you will have half the male population cowed by your quick tongue and vivacity, along with Faith. The two of you together will be quite the storm." Jerry smiled sarcastically. "Besides, Avonlea and the Glen will always be here. It's good for people our age to get out and enjoy the world a little."

"What a fitting thing for the eldest son of a minister to say!" Nan laughed as Jerry shrugged his shoulders.

"I think I shall forever rue the day my father followed his life's calling," he joked, thrusting his hands into his pockets and turning to face her. "In all seriousness, though, Nan, I'm glad you'll be coming to Kingsport. Sure, there are plenty of swell girls there, but none of them have quite your flair for arguing." His black eyes twinkled.

Nan met his gaze and tried to repress the heat from rising to color her cheeks. "That is probably because they are more interested in flirting with you than arguing with you, Jerry," she stated bluntly. Nan felt bold. She wasn't sure why she had said such a thing, but secretly wondered if Jerry wished she would exhibit a more flirtatious attitude around him; though how such ridiculous behavior could possibly interest a man was beyond her.

Her disapproval showed in her face, causing Jerry to laugh. "That's probably so, which explains why Jem and I have brought none of them home."

"And Jem is sweet on Faith. What is your excuse, Mr. Meredith?" Nan's eyes were shining now. Jerry marveled at how interesting this conversation continued to get and how he had never before noticed quite how alluring Nan Blythe's velvety brown eyes could be. He suddenly wondered if maybe she were the reason he had never brought any of the Redmond girls home to the Manse.

He ran a brown hand through his hair. "I think it is safe to say that that matter is my own business, Miss Blythe." What a curious and dainty creature Nan was! She was honest, trusting with her feelings, yet not as serious as to miss an opportunity to chide him; unlike so many of the other giggling, foolish girls who had made his acquaintance and were only too eager to please. Yes, Nan would be a welcome addition to Kingsport life.

"Well, let us hope you turn out to be a better lawyer than you have been at the business of finding a sweetheart." Nan tilted her head and laughed, then smiled that faint smile at him as he regarded her, feeling as though the morning were somehow bewitched. She had no idea what had come over her to make her say such things, but she no longer denied the fact that she was drawn to Jerry. She felt a tingling anticipation within her and wondered if it was palpable in the air around them. Then—

"I'll miss you while you're in Avonlea, Nan."

He said it simply, with his hands still in his pockets and his black hair slightly ruffled, but Nan felt a blush warm her cheeks.

"I'll miss you, too, Jerry."

Afterwards, for the rest of the day, Nan was left to ponder Jerry's words and looks. As she packed her things for the train to Avonlea, she sighed in exasperation. Leave it to Jerry Meredith to wait until she had to leave for a fortnight to give a possible inclination of his feelings! It was just like a man, as Mrs. Marshall Elliot would say.

"Well," Nan said aloud to her trunk, "I certainly hope he has made up his mind by the time I return."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The train pulled away from the Charlottetown station around noon. The sun was shining brightly at its zenith and warmed the pane against which Nan was leaning, lost to the world in thought. Shirley had his head on her shoulder, his long legs stretched languidly before him on the cushioned seat. Jem and Walter were seated opposite her, discussing details for a bonfire they were arranging in Avonlea the next day. Nan turned her face from the sun and observed her brothers with a bemused grin. They were so different, and yet so alike. Jem, with his crop of red curls and flashing hazel eyes, talked with more animation than Walter, whose soulful grey eyes reflected his thoughts before he spoke them and whose voice was much steadier; yet they each had the same strong jaw and same confident fold of the arms as they sat back, talking in easy, brotherly fashion. Nan, watching them, laughed aloud. Jem and Walter both turned their heads to her with identical, quizzical expressions, causing Nan to laugh all the more.

"Nan, stop moving about so," Shirley said groggily.

"Yes, Nan, stop moving about," Jem chided her. "You wouldn't want to disturb our sleeping princess."

Shirley's eyes remained closed, but his discarded hat suddenly went flying across the space of the car and hit Walter in the chest.

"Wonderful aim, Shirley," Walter said, putting the hat on his head. "You might want to work on that before trying for any football leagues at Queens."

Shirley said nothing, but a humorous grin crossed his lips as he shifted position and went back to sleep. Nan ruffled his hair lovingly, while she and her two elder brothers exchanged amused glances.

At that moment, the car door slid open and in came a rather disgruntled Diana Blythe, who handed them each a chocolate bar, then plopped down into the empty space beside Walter. "I really believe that everybody got up to purchase refreshments at the same time I did. I could hardly move without bumping into someone and having to excuse myself a hundred times," she said, smoothing back a few strands of vibrant red hair that had escaped from beneath her hat. "Next time, you boys can skip drawing lots and just be _gentlemen." _

Walter patted her hand and Jem winked.

"I suppose next time you could simply ignore diplomacy and push everyone out of the way," Shirley said frankly, sitting up and tucking into his chocolate bar with calculated glee.

This elicited a chorus of laughter from the siblings. Shirley never had been a lad of many words, but when he did speak, he made it count.

Anne, who was in the compartment ahead of them with Gilbert and Rilla, heard their laughter and thrilled at its music. At times, she could hardly believe she was the mother of six grown children when it seemed like just yesterday, she was the irrepressible redhead being brought home to a stunned Marilla at Green Gables. Anne sighed now whenever she thought of dear Marilla and Matthew, who had both passed away several years ago and were now sleeping side-by-side beneath the wind-blown grasses of the Avonlea graveyard. She regretted that none of her children had ever had the chance to know Matthew, with his shy, understanding ways and kind eyes. How dearly he would have loved each of them! Marilla, though Jem held a special place in her heart, had doted tenderly upon them all. Shirley had limited memories of her, but Rilla was really the only one of Anne's children who couldn't remember her clearly.

Rilla, who had been but a small child when Aunt Marilla died, was now old enough to attend Queen's! Anne, glancing fondly at her youngest daughter who was curled up with a magazine by the sunlit window, suddenly felt older than her years. She shuddered to think how quickly the beautiful years were wont to pass. Still, she smiled to herself as she remembered the wonderful fortnight awaiting them in Avonlea. It was the first time the entire Blythe family, including Gilbert, were able to get back to Green Gables in quite some time. With Jem and Walter at Redmond, Nan and Di busy teaching, Shirley entering Queen's, and Gilbert's medical expertise in constant demand, it had been much too difficult to get the whole family to Avonlea, even during the slower summer months. Diana Barry was beside herself with the anticipation of their arrival, and Anne was hardly less anxious to get there. Avonlea would never feel out-of-place to her.

Nan had turned her eyes to the window once more and let her thoughts run freely as the landscape skidded past in a blur of summer color. She and her brothers and sisters were all very close, but she couldn't help feeling a little ache at the absence of Jerry Meredith. If only she could see him again, perhaps she could gain some insight into what their last conversation in Rainbow Valley meant! Nan sighed. For the present, she supposed, the mysterious workings of Jerry Meredith's heart would simply have to wait.

The train steamed into Carmody station only two minutes past schedule. Diana Wright and her youngest son Jack were waiting to welcome Anne home again and to drive them all to Green Gables.

Nan hugged her "aunt" warmly. Diana had always held a special place in her heart, along with Avonlea itself. Some of the spiteful Glen girls had labeled it as an old, provincial town. That was the exact reason Nan loved it.

"My! Nan, Di, how tall and pretty you've both grown!" Diana was saying as Jack secured their trunks. Nan smiled inwardly. She knew Diana Wright _nee_ Barry had always been considered a beauty of Avonlea and still was, despite what the Pyes might—and would—say about her being matronly.

"Oh, Aunt Diana, if only my hair were as glossy and raven black as yours!" Nan said rapturously, squeezing her hand affectionately.

Jack quietly observed his mother and the slender, willowy girls beside her. He rather thought Nan Blythe _was_ the prettiest thing he'd seen this side of Charlottetown. She looked strikingly like her mother, despite the difference in hair and eye color. He caught her eye for a moment then quickly looked away.

The drive to Green Gables was splendid and full of laughter. Diana, Anne, and Gilbert spoke of times past, while the boys were in deep conversation with Jack Wright about the bonfire. Rilla and Di were busy discussing fashion linguistics for the little gathering, so Nan sat back and breathed deeply, watching as the Island countryside slipped past.

The wind was up, stirring the long, thick grasses of the meadows and catching up bits of sea-scent in its caressing fingers, mixing it with hints of pine and blossom and woodsy earth. The red-dirt road curved and dipped before them, like a ribbon, leading on and on forever. It thrilled Nan with whispers of undiscovered secrets and adventure, beckoning her to follow. She gave herself up to her imagination until the pleasant ride came to a halt. The Green Gables lane was suddenly before them, and sweet memories of childhood came rushing to meet each one like a fragrant breeze on a spring morning.

"How lovely it is to be back," Anne said, stretching her arms open wide. Gilbert came and put a loving arm around her waist.

Uncle Davy and his family were away visiting relatives, so the Blythes had Green Gables all to themselves. Nan and Di were to share their mother's porch room, with a cot brought in for Rilla, while the boys would stay in what was once the spare room, a very long time ago.

Diana and Jack helped them get their things settled, then bade farewell until the morrow.

Anne went all around the old house, taking in the familiar smells of each room and getting re-acquainted with every little detail. They all enjoyed a gala meal in the Green Gables kitchen then retired early for bed, for the next evening was the bonfire.

**A/N: **_Sorry for how short this chapter was! I really just wanted to focus on the different relationships of the Blythe siblings and show how they all interact with one another. The next installment will be longer and more interesting, I promise! Thanks for reading!_


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Nan knelt at the window of the little porch gable, feeling alive and expectant. Jack Wright and Cordelia Anne were to be at Green Gables any moment so that she, Di, Walter, and Jem could drive with them to the dunes for the bonfire. The late afternoon had been a whirl of preparation, as the little white room bore testament, with ribbons, garments, and other girlish accessories strewn across the furniture, elegant in its feminine disarray. While the boys had been whooping and hollering downstairs, Nan and Di had shut themselves in their room to help each other make ready for the evening.

Nan, now almost finished, stole a quiet moment at the window while she waited for Di to add extra pins to her red tresses. As the mellow sun began to pour its gold into the lap of the little island, every curve and fold of the landscape seemed to soften with the enchantment of a midsummer's eve. Twilight was lowering her curtain of sapphire and rose, and Nan fairly shivered as she took it all in, the romance of such simple beauty thrilling her to the core. She was like a slender starflower, fresh and vivacious as the spring, in a soft gown of pink-and-cream organdy, which lent color to her cheeks and magic to her eyes.

"Oh, what an impossibly lovely night!" she cried, leaning her face out into the open air, "I'm so glad the boys thought to plan all this!"

"Me, too," Di said, smoothing her dress in the looking glass, "Only, I do so wish the Merediths were here."

Nan felt a curious little rush at the mention of the name, causing her to subconsciously press a hand to her chest to counteract her quickened heartbeat. Images of her and Jerry's last meeting came unwillingly into her mind, both painful and delightful to remember. She missed him, very much. There was no use in denying it, though she daren't breathe a word to Diana, yet. Nan suddenly felt that the bonfire would no longer be quite so enjoyable. And what about Jerry? Did he notice her absence as he said he would? Nan half laughed at herself for assuming she could so occupy the thoughts of one who could have his pick of any Redmond girl (or Glen girl, for that matter)…but then…those dark eyes had held something quite the opposite of mockery when they'd held her own gaze ever so briefly that curious morning. What _had_ that all meant? Nan fidgeted with frustration, unable to break out of the maddening circle in which her thoughts were continuously running.

"Oh for Heaven's sake…NAN!"

Nan snapped back to the present scene to find Di staring impatiently at her with both hands on her hips.

"What? Sorry, Di."

"Where _has_ your mind been running lately, Nan? I must have said your name half a dozen times before you returned from whatever world you were in. I was attempting to ask if you thought I looked alright."

Nan, her ire raising at the total indifference her twin had for anything other than frank realism, set her teeth. "Yes, darling, you look fine." She turned her face back to the window, avoiding Di's gaze.

"Nan! Di! You girls ready, yet?" It was Jem, pounding at the door with eager impatience.

Nan's face broke into a smile, forgetting the momentary tension with Di, and hurried across the door to let her brother in.

"Wow, Nan, you look smashing!" Jem exclaimed with brotherly affection, taking both her hands in his. "You, too, Di!" Now let's go, girls, before Jack decides to leave us!"

"As if that would happen Jem, "Nan quipped, squeezing her brother's arm as they traipsed down the stairs, "He's got us in town and Heaven knows that must be better company than what he's used to."

"No wonder the Glen girls think you're stuck up!" Jem teased, winking at her.

"Jem! I!—" Nan began to protest, but Jem cut her off, laughing. "You know I'm only kidding, Nan, now let's be off! Walter, Shirley, come on!" he yelled, pushing Nan and Di out the door and yanking his brothers along after.

Jack and Cordelia greeted them eagerly as they all piled into the carriage. The fragrant night air was full of gay shouts and laughter and bits of lively conversation as the merry young group drove down the lane of Green Gables. Nan couldn't help thinking that this was exactly the way summer nights should be.

The bonfire proved to be just as magnificent. It roared up towards the stars in great, glowing reaches of brightest yellow and orange. There was music and dancing and delicious summery treats, and Nan danced and talked and laughed until she thought her sides must surely burst. Jem and Jack Wright were at the head of all the festivities, but Nan even got a dance out of Walter, whose deep black eyes sparkled with amusement as they fairly tripped in the sand with each step. The girls' color was high and the boys were full of the energy of youth, and the sounds of their merriment could be heard up and down the shoreline, bringing smiles and fond memories to the faces and minds of those who passed them by.

Finally, the Avonlea folk and the Blythes threw themselves down on the sand in contended exhaustion to watch the moon rise over the sea. Nan discovered an old piece of driftwood stuck halfway in the earth and used it as her perch, looking slightly other-worldly, as a water nymph that has come to observe her kingdom at the witching hour. The lapis-lazuli waves washed over the sand in gentle rhythm and the night breeze, now slightly tinged with cool, threaded its fingers through the meadow-grasses, yet the leaping bonfire still burned warmly and brightly at her back. Nan hugged her knees and gave herself up to the summer night, forgetting about the others as her thoughts ran loose.

"It's a beautiful night, this," Jem indicated with a nod of his head. He had come quietly up behind his sister and now sat down next to her, putting an arm around her shoulders. Nan smiled in agreement. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Nan was too peaceful and too happy to want to pick up the conversation, just yet. She and Jem had always been close and had spent many hours in easy conversation over the years growing up. Theirs was a tight-knit family—the Blythes were known for it—yet where large families are concerned, pairings-off between siblings are always inevitable. Both Nan and Jem felt connected to their other brothers and sisters, each in their own way, yet when it came to confidential matters they were always drawn to one another's company. Their temperaments were very much alike: Jem understood the romance mixed within his sister's bright intelligence, and Nan recognized the pure heart of gold driving her brother's ambition. Nan looked up to Jem, ever since she was a little girl. Jem had never written her off as frivolous or snobbish; he took her seriously and—in return—Nan was an eager listener and encourager. They confided in each other so much throughout the various ups and downs of youth that they grew to be best chums, bound by the tie of mutual understanding, as well as by the bond of blood. Inevitably, however, as Redmond switched Jem's focus onto a fast track, their conversations had become less frequent in years recent. Jem still wrote his favorite younger sister letters when he could, of course, but it wasn't quite the same as before. Nan understood—Jem was simply following a natural course to establishing his own life—yet she still reveled in any moment they got to truly catch up.

As if reading her thoughts, Jem gave her shoulder an affectionate squeeze. "This is the first real moment we've had, just us, since the summer began. Sorry about that, Nan-let," he said, using the pet name he'd given her, "Life has gotten so…overwhelming…lately." A thoughtful crease pressed his forehead.

"Oh, that's alright, Jem. I knew someday I'd be giving way to the girl who was actually successful in securing your heart. Only, thank Heavens you had the good sense to choose Faith Meredith; I'm considerably relieved on that score. What, you thought I didn't know what had been occupying your free time?" she teased, eyes shining.

Jem laughed outright at his sister's bluntness. "I guess there's no use in us keeping it a secret…ok, _trying_ to keep it a secret, "he corrected, seeing Nan's mocking look.

"Jem, darling, we've all known for quite some time, or at least guessed at it. Truly, Jem, it makes me incredibly happy. Faith is one of my best chums…and _now_ I have the happy task of keeping an eye on you two at Redmond!"

Nan giggled, but Jem's face brightened. "Nan—yes! You _will_ be with us at college this term, won't you, and it'll be a bit like Rainbow Valley times again!"

Nan warmed at her brother's enthusiasm.

"Forget you keeping an eye out for me," Jem continued, taking on a fatherly tone, "it'll be _me_ who has to watch out for you! Redmond fellows are like blood hounds, Nan. Don't let them fool you."

Nan rolled her eyes and then let out a breath. "Jem, I'm—I'm a bit…nervous," she confessed suddenly, "about college—everything. You've taken to it and done brilliantly—you and Walter, both—but what if I can't do the same? I've been looking forward to Redmond ever since I graduated Queens, but…what if I make a fool of myself? What would people in the Glen think…and Jerry…"

Jem regarded his sister seriously for a moment. "Nan, you'll love it, don't worry," he said with the casual confidence that Nan so admired, "Redmond isn't all that different from Queens when it comes down to it. And you have a brilliant mind. Faith, Walter, Jerry and I will all be there looking out for you, anyway."

Perhaps it was the variety of emotions Nan felt whirling around inside her, but she couldn't repress the blush from rising to her face, this time, at the mention of Jerry's name. Oh, to be made a fool of in front of Jerry would be much more than she could bear!

"Nan…," Jem prompted, still looking at her, "Does this have something to do with what people will think of you?"

"Yes and…no," Nan began hesitantly, "Not people in general, not really. Just…Jerry." She dropped his name with finality, realizing she might as well be open with Jem, just as they always were. She stared straight ahead, unseeing, nervous for her brother's response.

"Ahhh," Jem said in the tone of one who has finally been handed the solution to a perplexing problem, "You're worried about Jerry? Well, you know he's never had anything but the highest regard for you, Nan. Trust me, I know him. I've seen him give the brush-off to more than one ridiculous girl at Redmond."

Nan felt relief mixed with a sort of girlish giddiness leap at her insides. Of course Jem didn't poke fun at her. When had he ever? And Jerry…could the look she'd seen in his eyes been genuine?

"Although, I have to say," Jem continued, a slightly mischievous smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, "Faith and I were beginning to wonder if this was the case with you two! Not that you've been forward!" he added hastily, seeing the look of horror on Nan's face, "No, it's simply that Faith knows Jerry and I know you, so when Faith presented her hunch to me, it made sense. Now, don't let me get you ahead of yourself. Jerry hasn't said anything to me, yet. If he does, though, "he poked her playfully with his elbow, "I won't rough him up any."

Nan laughed again, feeling all at once amazed and relieved. It was so good to speak to Jem like this, again! To tell him what had been weighing at her heart and to not be laughed at for it. And if Jem and Faith both thought there was a chance Jerry might favor her, well then that was worth something, wasn't it?

"He hasn't really said anything to me, either, but if he does, I promise you'll be the first to know."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"Last one to the bridge must spill their darkest secret!"

"Nan Blythe, just you wait a minute! Nan! Stop!" Diana called after her twin, but in vain. Nan was already far down the red dirt lane, leaving a cloud of earth and laughter in her wake. Di groaned and rolled her eyes. What had begun as a leisurely bicycle ride around Avonlea had somehow turned into a race when Nan's adventurous side took over. Pretty Nan, who liked to keep up appearances where matters of propriety and fashion were concerned, had gotten a wild spark in her eyes and suggested a race to the bridge over the Lake of Shining Waters. And when Nan got an adventurous idea into her head, there was usually no stopping her. Of course, she still managed to look becoming, tearing down the lane like a madman with her summer-blue skirts billowing behind, Di noted resentfully. When had Nan ever not been becoming? Di sighed. Her twin was already disappearing around a tree-shaded bend. Well, there was nothing for it. She would simply have to catch her up.

Nan laughed as she flew through the tranquil countryside. She and Di had been out all morning, pedaling easily through town and all around Avonlea. It was such an alluring day, what with the mellow June warmth and wisps of tangy sea-breeze that Nan couldn't help but feel adventure tingling through to her fingertips. Sure, the cantankerous old women of town would think she was mad and shake their heads at "the poor way dear John Blythe's granddaughter had turned out," but what did she care for their tired opinions today? Kingsport lay just ahead in her future and the romance of her mother's childhood home was all around her, so Nan had not a care in the world. And really, Di rather needed a burst of spontaneity to loosen her up a degree; she'd been strangely aloof and irritable lately.

Nan rounded the bend and beheld the Lake of Shining Waters glimmering in whimsical shades of deepest blue before her. Leaning low over the handlebars, Nan sped towards the bridge, taking pleasure in the way the wind rushed freely across her face. Her spirits were high, an energetic glow brightening her cheeks. Drawing near, Nan realized with sudden horror that the bridge was not unoccupied. Someone was strolling casually across, not looking in her direction, and leaving precious little room for her to pass by safely. She braked furiously, calling out to get the man's attention, then—desperate to avoid collision—threw both legs over to simultaneously slow her speed and maintain control. Nan was successful in getting both feet firmly on the ground, but felt her skirts catch at the pedals. With a shriek, Nan started to slip, certain she was about to fall face-forward onto the wooden slats, but the man—with surprising quickness of reaction—flattened his body flush to the rail and put out both arms to steady her.

Nan bent double over her handlebars for a moment, breathing heavily to calm her racing heart and frayed nerves. She chided herself mentally for being so abominably reckless. What a stupid little mess this man must take her for!

"Oh, I'm so terribly sorry!" she gasped looking up. With a start, Nan realized she was standing in the arms of Jack Wright! "Why, Jack! Thank heavens it's you! Oh, I'm so sorry about this! Di and I were having a little race and, well, I wasn't really expecting anyone to be on the bridge and, goodness, Jack, you could've been injured!" The words just sort of tumbled from her mouth. Thank the good Lord above it was only Jack who had witnessed her make a fool of herself and not a complete stranger! Nan began to laugh infectiously.

Jack looked down at this wild rose of a girl with amusement in his usually tranquil eyes. "Well, I saw you tearing madly around the curve and realized it couldn't end well if I continued to stand in your way." He laughed, too, still holding loosely onto her elbows. "So, Nan Blythe, I have seen an entirely new side of you that I didn't know existed."

Nan's smile widened and she glanced down momentarily, her long lashes just brushing the tops of her creamy cheeks. "Jack, I'm truly glad it was you and not some Avonlea gossip who would be mortified and sing anything but my praises throughout town." She laughed again. Adrenaline had made her bold once more and Jack found he rather liked it.

Nan took a final deep breath as she regained composure, her heart having returned to a regular and steady pace. She smoothed her dress and Jack let drop his arms. Nan, busy taming the sugary curls that had come loose around her forehead, failed to see the look of near-reluctance that flashed across his face as he did so.

"Nan!" Di Blythe, who—having finally caught up to her twin—had rounded the bend in the lane in time to see her sister in close quarters with Jack Wright. Di, already annoyed at having been left to play this ridiculous game of chase in the first place, felt her soul rankle.

Nan waved to her sister cheerfully. "Di! There you are! Oh, it was the most absurd and amusing thing—I was such a fool—but I almost killed poor Jack, here, only he was bright enough to steady me and keep me from injuring us both." She laughed and Jack smiled.

"I believe she won your little race," he said good-naturedly.

Di smiled, but found she could not quite match their enthusiasm. Nan noticed the tension that was again present between them. There was a beat of silence.

"Well, I'd best be off," Jack said, reverting back to his more subdued manor, "I'm glad you're alright, Nan. Take care. You, too, Di."

"Yes, thank you, Jack."

"Goodbye, Jack."

Nan watched him amble off, and then turned to her sister. "Goodness, Di, what's gotten into you?" she queried.

"I might as well ask you the same thing," Di replied coolly, "Why is it you seem to be flirting with nearly every boy you encounter?"

Nan stared. "Di Blythe, how dare you! I was not flirting with Jack Wright! He saved me from a nasty fall, I was merely being kind."

"Being kind would've been to say 'thank you' and move on."

"He's our friend, Diana. Our families have been connected since before we were born, or have you forgotten? You're making an impossibly big deal out of nothing, not to mention something that isn't even your concern." Nan's insides were burning. What on earth had gotten into Di? They'd had their fair share of sisterly quarrels over the years, but Di had never lashed out with an out-of-the-blue accusation about her behavior before. Nan looked incredulous, but Di only tossed her red head.

As soon as they reached Green Gables, Di immediately went in search of Walter, sweeping silently past both Nan and Anne in the hallway. Nan, completely bewildered at her twin's strange behavior, met her mother's questioning eyes and shrugged her shoulders in confusion. Anne, sensing that Di would talk when she was good and ready, merely shook her head at Nan, as if to indicate she should let her sister alone for the time being. She had a feeling as to what was going on and resolved to speak to Nan about it later. Anne was about to inquire of her daughter what exactly had happened when Jem came in from the kitchen, waving an envelope.

"I've had a letter from Jerry," he said as matter-of-factly as possible with a glance at Nan, passing through to the living room.

"Oh!" Nan's eyes lit up and she followed Jem from the hallway.

A knowing smile crossed Anne's lips as she watched them go. Jerry was another topic about which she needed to ask Nan. Anne couldn't help but sigh, wondering how on earth it could be that her pretty little Nan was already old enough to harbor a secret fancy for the minister's son! With a slight twinge, Anne realized that her daughter's romance could possibly already be more serious than she thought. The two did spend a lot of time together—how well they looked side by side—but Anne had never dwelled on it for very long, always owing to the fact that they were still very young. Indeed, Gilbert would never own that his baby twins were grown enough to be sweethearting, yet Anne had begun to wonder the moment she saw the first blush stain Nan's cheeks under the gaze of Jerry's dark eyes. After all, they really were not so terribly young anymore. Anne decided to make it a point to inquire after the workings of her daughters' hearts, also deciding it was time to have a conversation with Gilbert about the idea of one Jerry Meredith before too long.

In the living room, Nan was perched on the arm of the sofa, eagerly reading over her brother's shoulder as Jem read Jerry's letter aloud.

"Tom Wells has also agreed to play, which means our team has a fighting chance this year" –Jem whooped at this piece of news—"Well, that's all the updates for now. See you in a few days. Give my best to the family. Jerry."

Nan—who was a faster reader—had already finished the letter and was slumped back, arms crossed and a frown creasing her brow.

Jem re-folded the letter and patted her knee. "Sorry, Nan-let," he said, getting up and going in search of Shirley.

She was left alone in the quiet living room, the afternoon sunshine creating quite a pretty picture as it streamed brightly through the panes and played across the furniture. Nan didn't see any of it. She clenched and un-clenched her jaw, deep in thought, working to ignore the pin-prick of disappointment that threatened tears. So. Jerry Meredith wasn't thinking about her at all! He didn't miss her—of course he didn't. He hadn't even had enough of a thought of her to send her one greeting. Nan's eyes narrowed as plain irritation began to take the place of disappointment. See if Jerry Meredith got a word out of her, now! She could be just as unconcerned as he.

And indeed, the letter she had been composing to Faith, and which was currently sitting half-finished on her desk upstairs, found itself conveniently stripped of several sentences later that night.

It wasn't until the next morning, as Nan sent off her letter and sat down to a pleasant breakfast, that she saw an envelope addressed specifically to her, sitting by her plate. It was from Jerry.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Thank you so much for your lovely reviews. I appreciate each one! My schedule is pretty crazy, but I hope to update this story as often as possible. _

Chapter 5

Nan Blythe flew across the lawn, heedless of discipline or decorum, her apple green skirts swirling in a glory of light and shimmer behind her. Had anyone glimpsed her, a summer rose tumbling madly toward the orchard trees, they surely would have paused to wonder at such a wild, yet whimsical display. For Nan, however, good fortune was on her side this morning, as she was completely alone. Not a soul had followed her down from Green Gables, as she sought solace beneath the friendly trees, which meant she could indulge in Jerry's letter in delicious solitude. Breathless, she paused against the cool bark of a sturdy trunk and threw her head back with a sigh.

Making it through the family breakfast that morning had been one of the most trying times in Nan's life. As soon as she had glimpsed her name in Jerry's script on the envelope, waiting quietly for her at her place setting, she had wanted to snatch it up immediately and dash outside; yet, doing so would certainly have signaled that something was up. If there was one thing Nan Blythe was not willing to do, it was open herself up to an insufferable line of questioning – or worse, teasing. Thus, she had spirited the letter out of sight and reluctantly sat down, forcing polite conversation and delicate bites. It took all her concentration to conceal her flustered emotions and appear composed, although she was sure Mother had noticed.

In her flurry of thought, Nan hadn't paused to wonder just who, exactly, might have placed the letter at her plate, so absorbed was she in the giddy knowledge that Jerry had written to her. As it happened, Anne was indeed the one who had found it. Returning from the Avonlea post office the previous day, Anne had delivered Jem his letter and discarded the rest on the kitchen table, vowing to sort them later. When she resumed her task, as the sun was just beginning to peek through the shutters of Green Gables, she once again glimpsed Jerry Meredith's name. Anne began to call for Jem when her eyes suddenly fell upon the recipient – it was then that all the pieces came together and fit neatly into place. She sighed at the sudden confirmation of her maternal instincts.

Anne knew, of course, that her children and the Merediths were all close chums, but this signified a shift of sorts, one that she had been dreading ever since the twins had begun to blossom into womanhood. It was the same bittersweet recognition that had dawned on her a few months prior, when she had first heard the rumors of a pairing off between Jem and Faith. Childhood was being gently tucked away, it seemed, and Anne was simply left to smile at the nuances of motherhood – oh, how they pricked one's soul with sweetness and sorrow! With another sigh, Anne quietly set the letter beside her daughter's plate. The previous night, Anne had shared her suspicions with Gilbert – his stern indignation had made her bubble up with girlish laughter – but now, it seemed, she needed to draw the truth gently from Nan.

Although it felt as if it would never end, the talk around the breakfast table did finally dwindle. Nan excused herself as calmly as possible and forced her feet to carry her slowly, yet purposefully through the hall and out the front door. Only then did she allow herself to break into a run…and run she did. At last, sheltered beneath the blossom-laden boughs of the orchard, the dappled light dancing gently across the grass, Nan tore open Jerry's letter with trembling hands. His confident script unfolded on a short note before her and her heart gave a queer little lurch.

_**Nan,**_

_**One week has passed since your lot left and Glen St. Mary has never been duller. It is quite shocking, really, how empty the place seems without our usual gang here. Is this what it has been like for you while the rest of us were off at Redmond? If so, I pity you, Nan, I do. Faith says I have grown insufferable without you here to debate with. Too many opinions left alone will do that to a fellow, I suppose, but you see, Nan, I was right: I do miss you. **_

_**I confess that the latest news coming out of Europe has me preoccupied some. It seems there is a hint of war on the air. It is about all anyone can talk of. Your father has probably already heard, I'm sure**_. – He had, and so had Jem. Just this morning, the conversation had turned to the troubling topic, but Nan had been too distracted to listen to much of it – _**If what they're saying is true, then Jem and the other boys and I might just be lucky enough to find ourselves in uniform before long. Wouldn't that be a sight, Nan? Just like we used to pretend in Rainbow Valley. It makes me think of Walter's old Piper. I ought to ask him if he has heard the Piper's music floating down on the wind again. Some of what I have been hearing really does make war seem like a certainty, Nan, if old England does decide she must fight. Perhaps it will blow over, yet, and we will have to settle with finding ourselves squarely back in Kingsport as planned. I suppose that wouldn't really be so bad, now that you and Di will be joining us. **_

_**I heard word that there is to be a midsummer's clambake right after you get back into town. Why don't you and I go together? We can join Jem and Faith and make a night of it. **_

_**Well, that's my news for now. I hope you're having a grand time in Avonlea (but not too grand).**_

_**Jerry **_

Nan's mind was in a tangle, each thought sparkling and winking in turn, like so many gemstones, unable to focus. A flush lent heat to her cheeks, though the June morning was fairly cool and lovely still. She re-read the letter many times, eager to reach between the lines and extract sweet morsels of meaning and intent. The bits about war were troubling, but Nan easily dismissed them. She could no longer deny that she felt a distinct preference for Jerry Meredith and it was all that occupied her thoughts. His singling her out in this way – admitting he missed her and specifically asking her to accompany him to the clambake, when it was a Glen fact that the Blythes and Merediths attended events together – certainly seemed to suggest that the preference was reciprocal. Yet, these were only vague inclinations of deeper feelings and not a clear declaration. Nan agonized. How very like Jerry Meredith this was!

If Jerry really was sweet on her (and she on him), what would that mean? For months, Nan had thrilled at the thought of new adventures in Kingsport, with studies to open up new worlds of thought and imagination and intriguing new acquaintances to make. Yet, what boy had ever compared to Jerry? For Nan, he had been the one whose company she increasingly sought at parties and other Glen happenings. Even in the Rainbow Valley days, Jerry had been the one to listen to her and explore thoughts and opinions with her. Theirs was a natural pairing among friends, two minds that understood one another and who, therefore, gravitated towards one another. Now, as Nan examined her own feelings and experiences, she admitted to herself that she _had_ always trembled a little whenever she beheld Jerry's tall figure or the handsome line of his jaw. Was she in love with him? The thought sent a jolt to her core. Nan suddenly felt that she would very much like to throw her arms around Jerry Meredith.

Then, with the dreadful certainty of one awakening from a beautiful dream, Nan remembered the rather furiously edited letter she had posted to Faith the day before. The amended correspondence had found itself neatly stripped of any mention of or elusion to Jerry – and, oh, how deliberately she had played up that amusing encounter with Jack Wright over the Lake of Shining Waters! Nan put a hand to her head. What had seemed like an excellent idea at the time, fueled by the sting of her injured feelings, now felt childish. Hadn't Mother always warned her about reining in her imagination and not acting rashly upon first impulses? Well, she had certainly learned her lesson now.

There was nothing for it – she must go back to Green Gables at once and dash off a reply to Jerry. It was not too late – they still had a week left in Avonlea – but it was the knowledge that he would surely hear her foolish, embellished tale about Jack Wright (with Nan being unable to refute it for further shame of the truth) that brought a deep blush to Nan's cheeks. She could not bear to appear foolish in front of Jerry – or to ruin a delicate little thing before it even had a chance to begin. There was no solid understanding between them, as of yet…and it was common gossip in the Glen how the girls of Redmond College chased after the minister's handsome eldest son. Nan felt hot tears burn the corners of her eyes, but would not let them spill over. She would _not _cry over Jerry Meredith! Let him worry about her feelings and the threat of a potential rival! Yet, somehow, her indignation did little to boost her spirits and the tears trickled down in spite of her resolve. She needed Jem.

Nan stepped out from the fragrant shelter of her orchard haven as the sun was climbing to its zenith. The grasses winked in its rays and the whole of the island seemed sunk in the daze of a perfect summer's day. Nan saw none of its beauty. She set a brisk pace across the lawn, desperate to find her eldest brother. Green Gables, too, however, seemed caught under the same sunlit spell, for it was as still and calm as the drowsy landscape in which it nestled. Nan crept through the kitchen door and was met with more silence. Considering for a moment, she decided to take to her gable room and have a good cry instead, and then pen a response to Jerry. Just as she reached the staircase, however, Anne called to her from the living room.

"Nan, darling, is that you?"

Nan hastily wiped her cheeks and took a breath before going in to see her mother. "Yes, it's me. You're here alone? Where have the others gone? And Dad?"

Anne immediately noted the tinges of redness around her daughter's expressive eyes and the torn envelope in her hand. Had Jerry upset Nan with the contents of his letter? Silently, Anne thanked the heavens that Gilbert wasn't here to see, lest he ring up the manse with firm words for the minister's son. "Your father had some business with the local doctor and the rest are down at the seashore. Jem and Walter looked for you before they left."

She decided not to ask any questions of her daughter too soon. Conversation had always been easy between the two of them, with Nan divulging the secret workings of her vivacious heart to the mother with whom she shared so much of her temperament. Nan may have inherited bits of Gilbert's frank sense of humor, but she felt deeply, sparkled with flashes of spirit, and experienced life in the same fiercely colored way as Anne, herself.

Nan dropped onto the sofa, where a pool of light was gathering. "Yes, I…I wanted to take a walk after breakfast," she said distractedly, gazing out the window while her fingers mindlessly fiddled with Jerry's letter, "I suppose I can still catch them up…" She trailed off and was silent for a moment, then looked at Anne with a weak smile. "What is it you're working on here, all alone?"

Anne smiled conspiratorially. "A bit of writing. The Ladies' Aid asked for another story for a foreign mission's fundraiser. One sheet has the real story, while the rest have all the pieces of magic and fairyland that I daren't submit." Anne laughed. "It's good to get it out of my soul, so the sensible creativity can take over."

Nan laughed in spite of herself. "Imagine Mrs. Grant's face if you were to submit the latter instead."

"I am convinced that that poor woman has never had one flight of fancy in her life. It's a shame, too, for my embellished draft is full of romance and heroics, such that would surely stir the good people of the Glen to donate to those in need." Anne set her pen down with a sigh. "Alas, my own flights of fancy will have to wait until another poem is needed."

She sat back and regarded Nan for a moment. "Now, darling, what has happened with Jerry Meredith to upset you so?"

Nan looked incredulous and began to stammer disjointedly, before understanding dawned on her. "Oh, of course. You must have set the letter out for me this morning."

It was a relief to pour out her heart to Mother. Jem was a good listener who never laughed at her, but Mother understood her soul. Nan felt a glimmer of hope return to her as she recounted her last encounter with Jerry, her feelings, his letter, and her abominable tale to Faith. As Anne listened, she couldn't help but remember long ago worries over Gilbert, before sweet understanding had finally been cemented between them. She knew that what troubled Nan was very real – budding womanhood was full of complexities and was often felt deeply. Thus, she kept a solemn face and an open heart, just as she had for all the countless trembling fears and secret longings small daughters had whispered to her through the years.

When Nan finished her story, Anne moved to sit beside her and took her hands in her own. "I know well how injured feelings can cause one on to react in a regrettable way," she said, giving Nan's hands a squeeze, "There is a solution to every problem. Why don't you take a deep breath and collect yourself, my darling, and then write to Jerry. You can include your encounter with Jack – the real story of what happened – as if you were simply relaying amusing happenings between friends."

Nan looked at her mother with a bit of sparkle returning to her eyes. "But what of Faith? I'm sure she'll have shared my letter with him – she always does. And Jem _said _she had been wondering if there was anything between Jerry and me."

"I think that Jerry and Faith both have better sense than your imagination is giving them credit for. And Nan, a little competition, even if it is imagined, can be good for a man."

"Mother, you sound just like Miss Cornelia." They both laughed. Nan felt her heart begin to lighten. It was good to share her fears and have them soothed. Perhaps things weren't quite so drastic as she had first thought.

Anne smoothed an errant curl from Nan's forehead. "If Jerry loves you, Nan, I am sure he would not give up so easily." She smiled at her daughter, realizing how womanly she had become, seemingly overnight. A little pang pricked her heart once more. "Do you love him, darling?"

Nan colored a little and gave a wistful glance at the letter in her lap. "Jerry has always meant a great deal to me….I don't think I even realized how much until this morning, knowing that the ridiculous tale I told Faith could hurt him…" she trailed off for a moment, fidgeting with the torn envelope again. "Jerry understands me…he listens to me. He teases me, yes, but he has never once taken up the malicious gossip spread about me in the Glen. I feel differently around him. Of course, I want to pursue my studies and make a path for myself, but I…I feel so deeply for him. I do think I love him, Mother."

Nan's hands trembled as she spoke. She felt strange all over – her admission had opened a new door within herself, leaving her too incredulous for tears, yet too delicate for mirth. Anne put her arms around her daughter and they both sat in silence for a moment, while the clock on the mantle ticked the seconds gently away in the late morning calm.

"Now, why don't you write a reply to Jerry while the others are still out, and then you and I can go post it together. This afternoon promises to be lovely."

"Thank you, Mother," Nan said, kissing her cheek.

As she took to her airy gable room, visions of the future blossomed brightly in her mind. The rose had been restored to life, adding tint and richness to all the possibilities before her.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Jerry shut the heavy oak door of the manse behind him with finality and breathed a sigh of mingled relief and exasperation. How could he have been so stupid? Where had his wits gone? It was completely unlike him to get tangled up in such a situation, yet here he was. He put a lean brown hand through his dark hair. Well, Faith would have his head.

A scuffling from the kitchen caught his attention. He fixed a wary eye on the door and squared his shoulders, forcing his disjointed thoughts to form any kind of order. There was nothing for it. If he was to be caught in his stupidity, it would be with a shred of composure, at least! Ruffling his hair again, he took a breath and strode firmly into the kitchen.

"Oh, it's you, Una – hi," Jerry said, surprised upon finding his shy look-alike sister. The other two Meredith siblings had all the golden loveliness of their dearly departed mother, but Una shared the same dark features and elegant lines as Jerry – except for two very round, deeply blue eyes. "I thought you were Faith."

"In the kitchen?" Una's voice was quiet and smooth. When she smiled, the corners of her mouth turned up slightly and her eyes brightened, as if something deep within her had been lit up suddenly. "Jerry…what happened?"

Jerry fell into a chair and looked sheepish. "Irene Howard."

Una said nothing but fixed her large eyes on him with something akin to reproach in them.

"Oh, don't look at me like that, Una! I already feel fool enough myself."

Una wiped the flour off her hands and sat down next to her brother. She was never one to waste words when none were needed. Her quiet presence encouraged confidence, especially with those she knew well.

Jerry gave another exasperated sigh. "I stepped out of Carter Flagg's yesterday and saw Irene surrounded by her group of magpies – no, don't scold me, you know they are. Nan has never understood why Rilla chums with them. Anyway, she called me over and I saw no way of extricating myself without being impolite. So, there I was, cornered, while her friends tittered and Irene chatted at me. I made short replies, in hopes of cutting out quickly, but it was no use. She spoke loudly, drawing attention to us, especially once she got on the subject of the clambake. Before I knew it, I'd agreed to save her a dance that night, and boy, what a mistake. Of course, I've already asked Nan to go, but apparently there's now a rumor circling the Glen about Irene and me. I had no idea until Harvey Crawford made japes about it today. You know I don't normally give a second thought to Glen gossip, but this is ridiculous. And inconvenient. Faith will be livid when she hears." Jerry rubbed his temples.

What he didn't say, though he thought it and felt the most aggravated by, was that Nan would be upset, as well. It was the chief of his concerns. They hadn't settled anything between them, yet, but Jerry certainly meant to. There had been an unmistakable glimmer in Nan's eyes the morning before she went away that had given him hope and the confidence to proceed. Irene's interference – and his own stupidity – had thrown a right little wrench into things. Hadn't Kate Drew hissed, "Won't Nan Blythe be cut up. Why, she's gotten practically territorial over him!" as he'd walked away?

Though Jerry didn't give voice to the thoughts that troubled him, Una could guess well enough what his silence inferred. She'd seen the way her brother had looked at Nan Blythe lately and knew what an insufferable flirt Irene Howard was. She laid her hand across his but was prevented from further comfort by Faith Meredith bursting into the kitchen. The latter's face was flushed, her curls awry, and her eyes glittering with indignation. She looked as if she had been in a great hurry.

"Jerry Meredith, you idiot!" she began, brandishing a letter in his face. "Irene _Howard_?! I specifically told you not to mess things up! And now it seems Nan Blythe has struck up a particular friendship with Jack Wright!" Jerry's face flushed as she flung the letter at him. Una's eyes had gone wide as she looked back and forth between her siblings.

"Now just a minute, Faith –"

"No, you just a minute, Jerry Meredith!" Faith continued on fiercely, "How could you go and get yourself tangled up with the likes of _Irene Howard_ when you were supposed to be sweet on Nan? At least she seems to have had enough sense to not bother! Oh, don't look at me like that, Una already knew. Didn't you, Una?"

Jerry and Faith turned their eyes to her. Una had never been comfortable in the spotlight and was even less so when suddenly enmeshed in the disputes of her siblings. "I – well, alright, I'd had my suspicions. I'm sorry, Jerry, I didn't want to say anything prematurely…."

Jerry sighed. "Oh, don't worry, Una. I suppose I haven't exactly hidden my preference for her. Now Faith, listen, I know you're angry. Don't suppose I'm over the moon here, either, to be at the center of some ridiculous gossip with Irene Howard. In fact, I think it's all been rather overblown, if you ask me. Yes, I somehow stupidly agreed to give her a dance at the clambake, but there really was nothing more to it than that. I promise," he added hastily, seeing Faith's look. "As for Jack Wright, Nan mentioned him in her letter to me, but it didn't seem to be anything particular, as you say."

Having cooled a bit from her initial outburst, Faith sat down and handed him the letter. "Well, that's not what it sounded like to me."

Jerry began to skim it, a frown creasing his brow as he read.

"I guess the Irene thing isn't all _that _bad," Faith admitted slowly, "but Jerry, you should probably explain everything to Nan. I'm not sure exactly sure what is or isn't going on between her and Jack Wright, but if you don't want this misunderstanding to get out of hand, you should write to her."

"I can't, they're due back the day after tomorrow," Jerry said distractedly, still glancing over Nan's letter. His manner had deflated, somewhat.

"Even better!" Faith exclaimed, brightening, "Go up to Ingleside as soon as they're back and just tell her what happened, that way she can hear the truth from you instead of some distorted rumor. I don't want our clambake ruined by a silly squabble! I'll even go with you."

Jerry returned to his old self for a moment as he gave Faith a wry look. "Faith, all of us at this table know you'll be going either way to see Jem."

Faith gave a pretty laugh. She was never one for embarrassment. "Let's all go. The Blythes have been gone for a fortnight. It will be good to catch up with them. And Jerry," she added, a trifle contritely, "I'm sorry I lost my temper and flew at you. I'm delighted at the prospect of you and Nan and don't want to see it ruined. _Especially _not by the likes of Irene Howard."

* * *

The Blythes were gathered around the breakfast table once more, on their last day in Avonlea, discussing, as is usual when vacations draw to a close, of all the thrilling things that awaited them upon their return. Jem was back on his favorite topic, excitedly relaying his strategy for his Redmond team for the upcoming term to Dr. Blythe and Shirley; Walter was discussing a new poem he'd written with Mrs. Blythe; and Nan, Di, and Rilla were locked in conversation about the clambake. They were each deciding what they should wear when Rilla interrupted them with a quaint little gasp.

"Oh! I almost forgot! I received a sweet letter from Irene Howard this morning and you'll_ never_ believe what she said!"

Nan and Di exchanged bemused glances at Rilla's italics. Their kid sister was prone to them, especially when relaying gossip. At fifteen, Rilla's whole world revolved around gossip.

"She said she was stopped by Jerry Meredith the other day, even though she was having _such_ a busy day, and that he asked her for a dance at the clambake! Irene said she protested at first, since she knows Jerry is supposed to go with you, Nan, and didn't want to cause _any_ trouble, but that he _insisted_! Can you believe it? She thinks Jerry is _so _handsome."

"Does she indeed," Di said drily, glancing at her twin. "I thought he was going with you, Nan."

Nan felt as if she'd been slapped. "He is. Rilla, there must be some mistake. Jerry asked me to go with him several days ago. It was in his letter!"

Rilla shrugged her pretty shoulders, only half listening. "I suppose he can dance one dance with her."

Rilla's impetuosity made Nan stiffen with anger. She mumbled a quick excuse and left the table, anxious to be away before anyone saw the change in her mood. The last thing she needed was Rilla's giggles or her father's concerned questions.

Di caught up with her in the hallway. "Nan, you don't think it's actually true, do you? After Jerry asked you to go?"

Nan knew her twin meant well – after all, she still hadn't told Di about her newly-realized feelings for Jerry – but her question hurt all the same. "I know Irene is prone to dramatics, but why would she lie? Jerry did ask me to attend the clambake with him….but I suppose that doesn't mean he can't dance with another girl once or twice."

"Oh yes it does!" Di said vehemently, "What an abominable thing for Jerry Meredith to do! After all, I've never seen him look twice at Irene Howard. I really thought he had grown sweet on _you_."

A strange little sob escaped Nan at that, despite her efforts.

"Why Nan, whatever is the matter?"

"I—I thought the same," Nan said quietly, then slipped outside. It was another impossibly glorious morning. A wind was up, whipping the tanginess of sea breeze and the sweetness of blossom together in a fairy waltz that whirled across the small island. It pulled at Nan's skirts, as if to draw them into the dance, and sent the tiniest of tendrils swaying against her forehead.

Di made to follow her, confusion written plainly in her expression. "Nan – wait a moment – darling, what – where are you going?"

Nan's disappointment had melted into resolve. The sting remained but was masked by a flash of spirit, the lesson of impulsivity she had tasted but a few days prior firmly forgotten. She called over her shoulder to her twin, "Jack Wright asked if he could write to me and I mean to tell him that he may."

That stopped Di in her tracks.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Ingleside was steeped in the allure of a summer's eve as the early July sun tipped towards its westward course, promising a fiery end. The Japanese lanterns dotting the verandah threw a fairy glow across the lawn, faintly illuminating the cheeks of creamy blossoms, while woodsy tangles and creeping vines held vigil with the shadows, coming alive under the spell of evening. The air was lovely and still, save for in Rainbow Valley, where a mischievous breeze traipsed through the maples, wresting a ghostly song from the bells of the Tree Lovers.

A delicious hum of anticipation hung in the air, as the young folk of the Glen prepared for their midsummer clambake. It was a welcome respite, for ripples of fear had begun to seep out of Europe, reaching even as far as Prince Edward Island, since the assassination of the Austrian Archduke shook the world four days prior. The news had ignited a tension that seemed to expand with each day, as the headlines grew ever darker – though no one could possibly know the true scale of the horror that was to come. Nan was glad for a reason to laugh and be merry, for the crease on Dr. Blythe's brow as he read the paper each morning troubled her greatly.

The twins were gathered in Di's room upstairs, with Rilla draped over a chair, tittering endlessly away – Mrs. Blythe had given permission for her to attend the clambake, as it was rather too informal an affair to be called a true party. All three were dressed and awaiting the arrival of the Merediths – the whole clan was coming, as Reverend and Mrs. Meredith were to spend the evening with Dr. and Mrs. Blythe. Nan studied herself in the mirror while Rilla chatted on, barely registering what was being said. Tonight, she would see Jerry for the first time since she went away to Avonlea. He had called at Ingleside more than once in the days since their return, yet Nan had always been off on some errand. Truthfully, she was slightly relieved to have not had to encounter him yet, as she still did not know what to say to about Irene Howard…or Jack Wright.

Jack had been shyly pleased when Nan told him he could write to her. A twinge of guilt had pricked her soul at the sight of his smile, but she clamped it firmly down. She liked Jack, after all. He was sweet and genuine, and he plainly admired her. He would never be as flashing and handsome as Jerry, but perhaps that was a good thing. Jack was steady and calm – handsome in his own soft way. Perhaps all they needed was to exchange a few letters...Lively voices from downstairs brought Nan back to herself and flooded her with nerves. She took one last look in the mirror – the violet dress would do – and followed her sisters out of the room.

The foyer was a scene of noise and merriment. Jerry was furthest from the staircase, shaking hands with Dr. Blythe amidst the crush of greetings. Nan fairly trembled as she took to the steps, arm in arm with Di. She was determined to look at everything and everyone but Jerry yet couldn't help noticing how much more handsome he seemed to have become since their last meeting. Nan tightened her grip on the bannister for support, willing herself to feel nothing. She would be entirely unconcerned around him – conversing freely, laughing liberally, and enjoying herself fiercely. Let him cater to Irene's graces! It would be of no consequence to her. Despite her resolve, however, Nan felt slightly dizzy, as though her body refused to comply and _would_ take note of Jerry's smiles.

Faith's shriek of delight at their appearance caused Jerry to glance up. His breath caught and a look of startled admiration flashed, unbidden, across his face, though Nan did not see it. If she had, perhaps she would have noticed how his cheeks flushed at the sight of her. For Jerry, Nan was an airy vision floating down to him, all violet and pearl, as slender as a starflower and otherworldly as a nymph. He couldn't remember her looking so beautiful before…for she _was_ beautiful – impossibly, maddeningly so. Jerry wondered how he could ever have been blind to it growing up. Wisps of curl were set to dancing whenever she turned her head or laughed, making him want to kiss the creamy neck against which they nestled. He instantly realized that what he felt for Nan Blythe went far beyond mere preference.

When the moment could no longer be avoided, Nan approached him and held out her hand with a friendly smile. Jerry took it and pressed it in greeting with a smile of his own. Nan felt the heat leap to her cheeks as he said her name and found it impossible to hold is gaze. She was seized by a sudden panic that everyone in the room would notice the colossal warmth humming between them, but the moment passed, and nobody seemed the wiser. Nan uttered a silent prayer of thanks when they finally stepped out into the soothing cool of the evening.

It was a short walk to the clambake and their little group was lively along the way. Jem and Faith went together ahead of the rest, with Nan and Jerry following and Di, Carl, Walter, Una, Shirley, and Rilla bringing up the rear. Along the way, they were met by Betty Mead and a few of the Drew siblings, who fell in step with the rest. As they walked, Nan let her hand rest lightly against Jerry's arm, in an effort to appear as normal and nonchalant as possible. She was overcome with shyness and for the first time, found herself completely incapable of conversation. The laughter and loud jests of the others only served to accentuate the silence between them, and Nan began to wish that the earth would open up and swallow her whole. If only she had made some excuse and remained at Ingleside with her parents and the Merediths!

"Nan," Jerry began at last, breaking into her thoughts, "I've been meaning to catch you all week and explain this little mix-up with Irene –"

"There's no need to explain," Nan interrupted hurriedly, anxious to cut him off lest they venture into territory wherein she lost all control of herself. Oh, how to return to their ease of manner and conversation when so much was left unsaid between them? She still felt the full sting of injured pride – yet, how could she express it when all possibility of romance had only been fueled by vague hints and assumptions? Nan would not allow herself to be caught in a schoolgirl fancy. There was nothing for it – she _must_ remain cool, lest she betray herself.

"I am sorry though," Jerry persisted earnestly, studying Nan's unreadable expression, "It was stupid to – "

"No, really, Jerry, let's just not talk of it." She gave him as warm a smile as she could muster, though in the dim lighting it was difficult to tell if it reached her eyes. She longed for him, but the thought of Irene Howard coming in all her fake modesty to claim her prize rankled Nan's soul. Then, she remembered that she had resolved to laugh and enjoy herself and began at once to talk lightly and incessantly about matters of no consequence until they reached the clambake, where merriment and music put an end to the pursuit of any more serious topics.

The edge of Evan Boyd's field had been transformed into a veritable land of enchantment. Tiny lights were strung up between the trees, while colored ribbon bound garlands of wildflowers to the trunks. More flowers were strewn across the wooden tables where ices and glasses of punch awaited them. Many couples were already whirling about the grass to the sound of Ned Burr's fiddle, though a good number were gathered in various groups, eating and laughing. The air was scented with pine, sea, the earthiness of baked clams, and the sweetness of summer petals. Nan's beauty-loving eyes took it all in, her worries and resentments beginning to fall away.

Jerry took her hand and with a "care to?" led her into the throng. Before long, Nan's spirits were fully restored. Her eyes sparkled and her energy was high as she swirled about. More than one envious female noted how the violet hue of her gown glowed in the soft light – and how Jerry Meredith seemed unable to look away from her for long – but Nan, surrounded by friends of her own, felt that nothing could ruin her delight.

How good it was to be out on such a night, with the cool air on her skin and the twinkling stars standing sentinel overhead! No one spoke of Europe and its troubles – all seemed content to simply enjoy the magic of the evening. Tripping across the grass in Jerry's arms, Nan felt that all was right with the world – Irene had not appeared, as yet, and Nan found herself slipping back into the easy groove of conversation that she normally shared with Jerry, which suited both. Jerry teased her mercilessly on her dancing – all in hopes of winning those wry smiles that he so loved, which bloomed slowly across her lips – and Nan shot back with pointed remarks about the impropriety of his taking part in such exercise as the minister's son.

After several dances, Nan fell breathlessly onto a bench beside Di, Carl, and Shirley. Jem and Faith had disappeared somewhere, as had Walter. She spied Rilla sequestered among Irene Howard's little following – so she _had_ come, after all. Nan shook off the pinprick of irritation and put an arm around her twin. "Di, you look just like a woodland creature, arrayed all in starry white. It really does set off your red hair magnificently. I am a proud sister."

Di laughed and Carl cut in before she could respond, inquiring as to whether _his_ clothes paired well with his own hair. "Why, of course, Carl, must you even ask?" she returned with a wink. She had always been fond of Carl – he was affable and cheery, and always keen to jest good-naturedly with her.

"Now, we mustn't forget Shirley," Di cried with mock solemnity. Nan kissed her brother's cheek in agreement. "Yes, you're absolutely right, Di. Really, though, Carl, you must teach Jerry, here, the correct way to present himself as a son of the manse. Such dancing just won't do!"

Jerry was about to launch into a defense when they were interrupted by Irene. "Why Jerry Meredith, I do believe you promised me a dance," she drawled in a syrupy tone. She had sashayed over to them and perched a slender hand artfully on her hip – probably the more to show off her figure, no doubt, Nan thought darkly. At her approach, all conversation had ceased. Shirley jumped to his feet abruptly and wandered away – Nan stifled a laugh, wishing she could follow him. To do so, however, would certainly give Irene some measure of satisfaction, and _that_ was entirely out of the question for Nan. She turned a cool expression on her, as though Irene were nothing more than a trifling interruption. Internally, however, all her former irritation and dismay boiled up again.

Jerry's shoulders tensed, almost imperceptibly, but he replied cheerfully enough, "Yes, so I did. Shall we?" And giving her his hand, he took her to join the dancers, without so much as another word or look at the rest of them. Nan was left stunned. Had Jerry secretly been looking forward to this moment all evening? Irene certainly was a beautiful girl, Nan admitted begrudgingly – although her taste in gowns _was_ rather gaudy. She was arrayed in a midnight blue silk that was more appropriate for a concert hall in Charlottetown than a Glen St. Mary clambake, but there was no denying it suited her coloring perfectly. Nan tried desperately to appear unconcerned, but her faculties seemed to have deserted her.

Di was looking sideways at her, but Carl mercifully did not seem to notice the awkwardness of the moment and chatted on – bless him! What a brick he was – Nan could have hugged him. She willed herself to engage and respond as before but couldn't help herself sneaking a glance or two at Jerry as he and Irene floated – yes, they did seem to float together! – across the grass. Irene caressed his shoulder – barely so, the gesture almost too small to even register – and gave a silvery-throated laugh….but it was when she bent her golden head towards Jerry provocatively that Nan's spirit buckled and she could take no more.

"I think I'll go find Shirley and see if I can't coax a dance out of him," she said lightly, springing up from the bench. She strode away before either Di or Carl could respond.

Nan had every intention of seeking her brother, but tears quickly began to well up, despite her best efforts. The magic of the evening had been irrevocably shattered for her, so she slipped silently away into the darkness…once out of sight of the dancing couples, Nan broke into a run and did not stop until she reached the maple grove that bordered Ingleside. Rainbow Valley could hold no solace for her this evening – every tree and bud reflected some memory of Jerry back to her.

She paused amidst a tangle of maples to catching her breath. Although Rainbow Valley had been the Blythe children's favorite haunt, Nan had always cherished this old maple grove. It was certainly a comfort now – the slender trunks stood watch over her in the soft moonlight while the boughs wrapped her in a shadowy embrace. Her cheerful façade, so carefully constructed and faithfully clung to, melted away in great sobs. It was a relief to let the tears come – and they _would_ come, now. Every emotion – all the excitement, the trepidation, the dismay, and the confusion – of the past two weeks came pouring out, and Nan did not bother to check them.

"If only Jem were here," she mumbled aloud to herself.

As if in answer, Nan heard him anxiously calling her name a moment later. She breathed a sigh of relief – he must have realized she'd left the clambake and gone in search of her – but no, that wasn't Jem's voice – it was Jerry's. Nan froze. Her eyes were red from tears, but she knew that if she hid herself in the maples and didn't respond that Jerry would continue to Ingleside and alarm their parents. Hurriedly, she wiped at her eyes and smoothed her hair. What an evening this had turned out to be.

Nan took a breath. "Jerry? Jerry – I'm here. Stop shouting or everyone at Ingleside will hear."

In a moment, he was by her side. "Nan, whatever happened…," he began, then saw the redness around her eyes, "Why Nan, you've been crying!"

Nan blushed to be caught in such a fashion. She was touched by the concern plainly written in his face and longed to wrap herself in his arms, but the image of Irene's familiarity came unbidden to her mind, causing her to draw back.

"It's nothing…I'm sorry to have drawn you away from the party," she said quietly, looking down at her hands.

"Nan," Jerry said gently, "We went together, remember? What made you leave?" Through his confusion, Jerry was acutely aware of a strong desire to reach out and hold her.

In her frustration, Nan was seized by an unholy urge to laugh in his face. She leveled her gaze at him. "You should really be getting back to Irene. I'm sure she'll be wondering where you've got to."

It was Jerry's turn to blush. "Nan…I'm sorry, really I am. It was a stupid mistake – I – I thought you didn't want to speak about it?"

Nan rounded on him, all pretense falling away. "Of _course_ I didn't want to speak about it – how could I? What could I possibly say when _we _hadn't said a word between us?" It was vague, but her full meaning hit him squarely. A charged silence hung in the air a moment.

Jerry took a step towards her, reaching for her hands. "I'm sorry, Nan. I am. I've made a right mess of – "

"You know, there really was no need to trifle with me if you had rather gone with her," Nan cut in icily, "There was no….no _familial_ obligation..." Her hands were shaking, but there was no going back now.

Jerry's face went pale with anger in the moonlight. "And what about Jack Wright? You want to talk about a…a trifle, Nan, alright, let's talk about him."

Nan deflated a little at that. "What about Jack Wright? There's nothing to say."

"Oh sure. Sure. You spend _months_ flirting – "

"_Flirting?!"_

"—and then the next thing I hear, you've gone and gotten attached to someone else."

Nan shook with anger and shame. "It was _nothing _until I heard about Irene," she said in a deadly quiet voice.

"Well _that_ was nothing, Nan!" Jerry cried with exasperation, "It was a mistake, a stupid, ridiculous mistake that was the result of an unfortunate situation and a _very_ irritating girl, and which has continued to prove a frustration to me ever since!"

His tone stung. He was right, of course – he had acted foolishly, but Nan could see, now, just how stupid the whole matter was. She felt silly…and tired. Tears glistened in her eyes again and she prayed it was too dark for Jerry to see. For a moment, neither of them spoke…then, Nan nodded…slowly, all fight drained from her, she nodded and turned to go.

The path glimmered tantalizingly in the moonlight. Nan wished she could wrap up and disappear in a robe of it, transporting her away from this night. How lovely it would be to sleep in a veil of moonbeams, with silvery-white light all around her! If she could hurry away from Jerry, from this ridiculous misunderstanding, perhaps she could dream of it…but she had only taken a few steps when someone caught her wrist and spun her around. Before Nan could utter a sound or even think, Jerry's lips were on hers, pressed tightly – longingly – and all the breath went out of her.

He had gathered her close, one hand at her back and the other cradling her face, holding her as though she were some moonlit fairy that might slip away from his grasp. Nan felt an electric shock course through her entire body and found that she was trembling from head to toe. His lips were warm and steady and sure, and Nan clung to him. It was a long while before they broke apart, and when they did, they lingered in a gentle silence, Jerry's forehead bent towards hers. Nan's breathing came in small shaking bursts and she realized a tear had slipped down her cheek.

"You impossible girl," Jerry whispered, then kissed her again.


	8. Chapter 8

_Hi everyone – I'm so sorry for the delay in getting this chapter written and posted! I can't tell you how quickly June and July have flown by! I've been pretty busy with work and other things, but I promise I am going to try my absolute best to not let so much time pass between chapters again. Thank you so much for your continued lovely reviews! I'm really delighted you're enjoying this little piece of my imagination and truly appreciate each comment._

Chapter 8

"How I love summer storms," Nan murmured dreamily to herself as she gazed out at the rain swept hills, her chin propped upon her clasped hands. She was curled on the sofa in the Ingleside living room like any good cat – Doc, having turned Hyde at the first hint of rain, had leapt down with a hiss and left her to his domain – whilst Susan and Mrs. Blythe consulted the latest catalogue, discussing what things the girls might need for Redmond. Cool air had come sweeping across the gulf with the storm's approach, prompting the lighting of an early fire – it crackled cozily now in the hearth, supervised by Gog and Magog, ever in their place of honor upon the family mantle. Nan thrilled to see the clouds gathering over the far water, ominous yet enchanting in deep blues and greys, with glimmers of lightning in their depths.

"Nan, come have a look at these, won't you?" Anne beckoned, breaking into her reverie. "Ah, Di, there you are. You as well, dear" – this, as Di came in with a handful of letters, brushing rain from her hat as she cast it aside. The swirls of her hair gleamed ever more redly as the firelight glanced upon it.

"It's lovely to think of living in town, surrounded by all those beautiful old buildings and merry goings-on," Nan sighed as she slowly wandered over to join her mother. "I wonder if the excitement won't suit me more than life in the Glen."

"I should think not, what with folk staying up half the night and running round to concerts and parties, and the good Lord knows what else," sniffed Susan with disdain. "I don't know how they don't all drop dead from the effort!" For Susan, there was something not entirely to be trusted in those who lacked a wholesome country upbringing.

"Now Susan, it really is not all bad as that," Anne replied, laughing, "And Kingsport isn't Toronto. The girls will have concerts and parties, yes, but there will also be plenty of studying, too."

"I am sure you know best, Mrs. Dr. Dear, having been educated there yourself, but I should be quite glad all the same that Nan and Di will have Jem to help look after them."

"If Jem can spare any time from Faith, you mean," Di put in slyly.

Susan chose to ignore that. "Well, Nan dear, you and Di are young and surely deserve to have a good time, but when all is said and done, Glen St. Mary is in your blood, and that you may tie to. Now, it was high time I saw to tea. That Hyde creature was looking extra fiendish when the rain came up and had better not be wreaking havoc in the pantry…" Susan stalked off, muttering things best not to be repeated about said "creature."

"You really returned just in time, Di. Any later and you would have been swimming to get home!" Nan remarked with a glance outside. What had been a lovely afternoon shower but a moment before was now a deluge, thudding upon the roof and blotting out the garden in a blue-grey blur.

"What's a little rain?" Di quipped. "I wanted to hurry over to the post office. I thought our Redmond freshman packets might have arrived and I was right! Here's yours, Nan. Gosh, I can't believe it's coming up, and so quickly, too. I did want another year of teaching under my belt, but now I'm glad father insisted we go. Oh, I almost forgot. This came for you, as well, Nan," Di added in a strangely light tone, tossing a small envelope to her twin, upon which the name "Jack Wright" was clearly visible in a short, concise script.

"Oh," Nan responded, a trifle dully. From her look of dismay, it was plain that she had not been expecting this. In truth, ever since her tryst with Jerry, Nan had quite forgotten about Jack Wright and her promise to correspond with him. It came back to her now, with a sharp prick of guilt. Oh, why had she been so rash? And what to say now? As of yet, Nan had not uttered a word of what transpired between her and Jerry to anyone, preferring to hold the sweet secret close to her heart for just a little while longer. But Di was looking at her sharply, now, and even Mrs. Blythe's glance held mild curiosity.

"You and Jack Wright are writing one another, dear?" Anne, sensing there was more churning beneath the surface, posed the question delicately.

"No!…well…yes…this is the first letter I've received from him. I told him he might write to me, but had forgotten," Nan replied quickly, her cheeks tinging with red. She fidgeted with the envelope, secretly wishing the floor would somehow open up and swallow her.

"Don't you think you ought to make up your mind, Nan?" Di's voice had suddenly turned to ice.

Nan stared. She knew something had been bothering her twin on and off since Avonlea but had dismissed it as nothing more than a small trifle, as Di had never disclosed anything to her. Now, it seemed as though they were edging dangerously close to the crux of the issue, though Nan had never before supposed it could have anything to do with her. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean," she replied coolly, becoming engrossed in the pages of the catalogue.

Di's sharp bark of laughter startled her. "First you were after Jerry Meredith, and then it was suddenly on to Jack Wright. Now, you're back to Jerry again? Don't you – "

"That is absolutely none of your affair!" Nan rounded on her. "Don't _you_ think it's a little laughable to insert yourself into matters with which you have zero experience?" It was a scathing remark, one meant to pierce armor, but Nan couldn't help it. What business was it of Di's, even if she _had_ intended to flaunt herself at both Jack and Jerry – which she hadn't!

Di's eyes flashed. "At least I won't have to worry about being branded as a certain type of girl at Redmond."

"_Diana Blythe_!" Anne had heard quite enough, but Di had already turned on her heel and fled. The rhythm of her footsteps on the stairs thudded dully in her wake.

Nan's mouth hung open, a mixture of outrage and confusion numbing her senses. What on _earth_ had gotten into Di?

Anne rose from her chair, the usually romantic lines of her mouth firmly set. "Oh, I had a feeling something was amiss. I should have made time to talk to her sooner," she remarked, more to herself than to Nan, as she made to follow Di from the room. "Nan, stay here a moment."

"Wait, mother – what Di said, it wasn't like that. Truly," Nan, recovering herself, blurted out quickly.

Anne paused and placed a gentle hand on Nan's cheek. "You girls are quite old enough to settle matters between yourselves, but there are some things best left to a mother's intervention. I think I know what has been bothering Di and it's clear it has reached a boiling point. Let me speak to her."

It was a relief to know that mother was not against her, but the implication of Di's words still smarted. _Branded a certain type of girl?_ The very nerve of such an accusation made Nan dizzy with anger. Why, Di didn't even know the full story! She was simply making abominable insinuations based on nothing but shreds and guesses. Nan paced the room restlessly, rehearsing everything she planned to say to her twin. By the time Mrs. Blythe called for her to come upstairs, however, Nan's anger had reduced to a simmer. With a pang, she realized how little she had confided in Di lately, or encouraged her to share her _own_ secrets. Di's remark was still wildly egregious and deserved reprimand – Nan's sisterly ties did not entirely satisfy her sense of justice on _that _score – but perhaps Nan had not helped matters by becoming distant, though it was unknowingly done.

Mrs. Blythe met Nan on the stairs. "My instinct was correct," she whispered. "And she knows that what she said was wrong. Go and have a chat with her, Nan. I believe there are some things she'd like to tell you, now."

"I'm all curiosity," Nan replied with some trepidation.

Anne laughed softly. "It's nothing I couldn't explain to you, but I think it is best if Di has a chance to do so herself."

Nan nodded, feeling suddenly rather tired. What an afternoon this had turned out to be! She slowly climbed the rest of the staircase in silence, resisting the mad desire to rush outside into the downpour and find solace amongst the delicate arms of soaking, spiced ferns. Any concerns she had over what, exactly, to say to Di were assuaged when, upon pushing into the latter's room, Di immediately rose and moved to speak. A faint red rimmed her eyes, suggesting her anger had burned itself out through tears.

"Nan, I'm terribly sorry for my behavior," she said at once, reaching for her twin's hands and then stopping, as though unsure of her apology's reception.

A bloom of anger at the memory of Di's outburst threatened to flare in Nan's chest, but she firmly clamped it down, willing herself to rise above. "I just wish you would tell me what the matter is," she managed after a pause. As much as Nan wished to be mature and resilient, she couldn't quite bring herself to say that it was alright, yet.

Di reddened and she turned to sit on the cushioned window seat with a sigh. "I'm just so…ashamed…now," she said, averting her eyes and twirling the scalloped edge of her curtains.

It was certainly strange to see Di, usually so sharp and confident, subdued like this. Nan softened and went to sit beside her. "You can tell me. I won't laugh or scold, and I won't tell a soul."

Di glanced at her, then looked away again and was silent for a moment. Finally, she let out a breath. "I've been envious of you, Nan…deeply, irrationally envious. It's humiliating and silly, but there it is." Di looked at her clasped hands as she spoke, as though it were easier to admit her secret to them.

Nan felt a jolt of surprise. She truly had not expected _this_ admission. "But…Di…what do you mean, envious? What on earth do you have to be envious about?" As she said the words, realization dawned on her. "Oh, Di… it isn't…is it Jack?"

Di blushed again, but laughed a pretty little laugh. Nan reflected that her laugh had always been pretty. "It sounds so ridiculous, doesn't it?" Di asked, looking up at Nan with something of the old twinkle in her eyes. "The truth is, you're the handsomest of any of the Glen girls and have always had boys trailing helplessly after you in your wake. No, it's true" – this, as Nan tried to protest. "Even Jerry Meredith, whom nearly every girl this side of the Island has had their eye on, has always been in love with you. Not even Persis Ford could turn his head with her Toronto glamour and gorgeous curls…though, I'm not quite certain she ever tried. My point is…I don't _want_ every man's attention, or Jerry's...I did for a time, but it was so clear he was set on you…I just want _one. _I'm not sure when I started thinking of Jack, but I have always thought he was handsome, in his own way, and we've been chums our whole lives. Well, on our last trip to Avonlea, I could see he had set his cap for _you_. So, when you dashed off that morning to tell him he could write to you, when I knew you'd been hurt by what Rilla said about Jerry and Irene, I took it to heart, I suppose. Seeing his letter today just added salt to the wound."

Nan listened with growing dismay. Not only was Jack Wright a casualty of her impulsivity, it seemed her own beloved twin was, as well. Nan silently chided herself once more for being so foolish. "Oh Di, my poor darling. Can this really all be true? Of _course_ you've been distraught. I've been such a vain little goose – can you ever forgive me?"

Di laughed. "Forgive you? Why, for not being capable of reading minds? Nan, what I said to you this afternoon was born of my own shortcomings. It is my responsibility alone. You have nothing to ask forgiveness for."

"Don't you give it a second thought, Di. I really should have been open with you about Jerry. It is true that what happened with Irene Howard surprised and humiliated me. At the time, he and I had only been dancing around an understanding, so his flippancy – or so I perceived it – hurt me greatly. I _do_ so admire Jack Wright and I _believed_ I felt more for him than I do…but I'm afraid I only acted out of foolish, wounded vanity. I am truly sorry that either of you should be hurt because of me."

Di took her hands. "You couldn't have known what I was feeling…I suppose we both have kept things from one another."

Nan smiled sadly. "We've always told each other everything. I hadn't realized how little I'd confided in you lately until today."

"We'll be better," Di said in that becoming, self-assured way that Nan so admired.

"And Di, surely you don't believe such nonsense about my being more handsome," Nan remarked, their old rapport firmly restored. "You musn't say such things! You're every bit as pretty as either Rilla or me, and far prettier than the likes of Irene Howard or Alice Crawford. You have such an ethereal air about you, like a flame-tipped lily-of-the-valley."

Di waved her twin away, her wry humor coming back to her. "To be frank, Nan, it's not difficult to surpass Alice Crawford in beauty."

Their laughter floated down the stairs to Anne, who smiled to herself upon hearing it. She cherished the bond between her girls – it was the very thing she had craved as a child, in that lonely time before Avonlea. Anne remembered, too, how misunderstood she had felt for her imaginative ways, much like Nan, and how eaten up with envy she had been when comparing herself to other girls, like Di. Watching your traits play out in the lives of your children was a beautiful and humbling thing, Anne reflected.

Later, Nan took herself to Rainbow Valley to think over the day awhile. Jerry came and found her there, and slipped his arms around her. Nan felt a soul-deep happiness overtake her as they sat in comfortable silence, watching twilight steal over the gulf with her violet veil. She sent a prayer of goodwill to Jack, hoping he would be open to her friendship, if not her love, and wondering how she might turn his thoughts toward Di.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"What say you to the prospect of another and, might I add, much bigger dance to attend?" Jerry asked cryptically one breezy afternoon, as he wandered up the Ingleside lane.

Nan, seated on the verandah with pen and paper in hand, looked up with a mischievous grin. "I'd say that I might have heard news of one this morning and have already begun planning furiously with Faith and Di."

Jerry looked affronted. "Am I to never be able to surprise you with any gossip?"

"Not so long as we live in the same village as Ethel Reese."

Jerry shuddered, remembering his last encounter with Ethel, the day Irene cornered him. Her smirk had been particularly smug. "The day that sees me free of any threat of hearing the name of Ethel Reese will be cause for celebration," he remarked ruefully, joining her on the step.

Nan laughed, setting her writing aside. "That day is fast approaching, seeing as we leave for Redmond in a little over a month."

"Then let us hope it passes quickly. What have you got there?" Jerry gestured to Nan's discarded papers.

"Oh, I was just dashing off a quick letter to Jack Wright. You don't mind, do you? I've been adding lots of anecdotes about Di in my correspondence, in hopes that I can steer him in the right direction."

"So you've let him down, have you? So long as I remain the only one who can do this, then I don't mind at all," Jerry replied in a low, smooth voice, bending his head to kiss her.

Nan pressed into his embrace – just for a moment – then broke away, coloring. "We can't, not in plain sight of anyone who happens to wander by!" she hissed, feeling rather more flushed than the mild afternoon merited. Nan reached quickly for her correspondence again and continued writing in silence, acutely aware of the brush of Jerry's sleeve against her own as her pen traversed the page.

Jerry observed her out of the corner of his eye, taking in the delicate angle of her chin and the way she creased her brow as she concentrated. If he were to be honest with himself, Nan completely undid him. The feel of her lips on his was one of the most natural things in the world, and Jerry wondered that it hadn't always been this way. It was Nan's face he saw when he closed his eyes, Nan's vibrant presence he envisioned next to him in his future life. Could she possibly know how deeply ingrained in his heart she had become ever since that night in the maple grove?

He reached out and gently tucked an errant curl behind her ear, causing her to glance up askance. The overwhelming tenderness she saw in his eyes made the breath catch in her throat. Impulsively, Nan took his hand and brought it to her cheek, leaning softly against his knuckles. As they looked at one another, the veil lifted momentarily, as by an unseen hand, and gave them a glimpse into the future confirmation of their unspoken hopes. In the sickening war-torn years that were to come, both would think back on this simple moment with deep emotion. For Jerry, it would be a memory that would descend with him into the depths of hell.

Planning for the dance at the Four Winds light proved a nice distraction for Nan. The newspaper headlines had grown troubling as the days wore on, but when word came that Germany had declared war on Russia, life felt somehow accelerated…though many in the Glen still lived in blissful ignorance of that towards which they were hurtling. Then the news grew darker still, with a declaration of war on France, and the watery shadow of fear began to seep in. Norman Douglas boomed that the crowned heads of Europe were fools for not controlling matters better; Dr. Blythe was less caustic, but still looked grave.

"Things don't look good," he admitted that night at dinner. "Events have unfolded far too quickly – it would seem that the match has been struck."

"Bessie Clow said her father said that 'what happens in the old world can't influence us here,'" Rilla protested in that flippant tone newly-fifteen-year-olds are wont to use when discussing unpleasant matters that do not involve themselves. "And I overheard the Shakespeare Drews saying the papers were making a great fuss over nothing."

"Europe is a vast network of bonds and alliances, Rilla. If one thread of allegiance is tested or threatened, the entire web will feel it. Even Canada."

"It's politics, Spider," Jem put in cheerfully. "If Belgium cashes in her chips with Britain, there will be nothing for it but to step up and help!

Nan shivered. She felt Walter shift uncomfortably in his seat next to her. Her eyes met Jem's, but she saw none of her own uneasiness reflected in their hazel depths, only eagerness. Jem talked boisterously of the possibility of war, lately, while Walter grew ever more subdued. Nan wanted to comfort him, but didn't know how. Though they shared the same passion for beautiful things, she had never felt quite as close to her dark, dreamy-eyed brother, as Di so clearly was – Di, who always seemed to know the right thing to say to him.

Once, when they were much younger, Nan had cried to their father after Walter excitedly interrupted a tea party she and Di were giving their dolls to ask Di to go to Rainbow Valley and hear a poem he had just written. Dr. Blythe had held Nan and assured her that Walter loved her every bit as much as Di, explaining that Walter had just needed Di for a specific adventure that day, much in the same way that Jem and Nan had special adventures of their own. It had taken much consoling before Nan's tears dried. When she awoke the next morning, however, Nan had found a delicate daisy – her favorite flower – placed carefully on her dressing table, along with a small card containing three lines of verse, written just for her. Whether Dr. Blythe had spoken with Walter or not, Nan never knew, but it didn't matter. She had kept the poem to this day. Reflecting on the memory now, Nan reached over and laid a gentle hand on Walter's arm. He seemed to come back to himself suddenly, as though drawn out of some troubling reverie, but the brief smile he gave her warmed Nan to her fingertips. She did not know it then, but Nan would forever be grateful for this small, ordinary interaction.

"We can only watch and hope for the best, now," Dr. Blythe was saying, "And pray."

"The match has been struck, just as father said. Now we wait for the explosion," Jem said jovially.

His garishness made Dr. Blythe wince, but he said nothing. Privately, Gilbert still wrestled with the hope that the worst might be averted in Europe, leaving his son's fantasies of war unaltered, but his heart misgave him. He knew that much of the Glen still had little grasp on the implications of Germany's actions – some had even gone so far as to mutter that Dr. Blythe had grown rather too philosophical of late. He prayed they were right.

* * *

The following day, the day of the lighthouse dance, dawned clear and bright. It was the golden sort of day that heralds the beginning of the end of summer, with mild breezes and mellow sunlight. Little foxgloves and snapdragons nodded in their earthy beds, while dainty bunches of sweet peas released a tantalizing hint of scent into the salty air. Gulls dipped and soared in their blue heights, wheeling over the water with their cries. The gulf itself seemed calm and content, the polished waves offering up delicate bits of foam like lace to adorn the sandstone shore, as though in preparation for the coming festivities.

At Ingleside, much of the day was filled with laughter and chatter. Miss Oliver was back, having arrived from Lowbridge on the last train the prior evening. The Blythes had grown accustomed to her queer ways and welcomed her back with delight – Rilla was in raptures and hardly left her side for a moment. Nan had always thought Gertrude quite lovely, with her inky black hair and haunting eyes. She never laughed at Miss Oliver's mystical musings but rather thrilled at them – there was something woodsy and mysterious about her, which beckoned to Nan's imaginative ways. Though the two were not especially close, Nan enjoyed her company and was glad for another addition to their party.

Everyone was in such jolly spirits that Nan quite forgot the somberness of the dinner conversation from the night before. She and Di chatted gaily while comparing dresses for the dance; Dog Monday bounded about, barking at whomever would listen and offer a pat. Even Shirley was more talkative than usual, teasing Rilla until she drove them all mad with her excessive use of italics. The Meredith clan stopped by to join them for the splendid supper Susan had conjured, before departing with promises to meet again later in the village. All around them was a sparkling spirit of goodwill. The air fairly hummed with it.

"How glorious the sunset is!" Nan exclaimed rapturously many hours later, as she joined Shirley, Walter, and Di by the Ingleside gate. Evening had lifted her standard, all rose-and-fire brilliance.

"'The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the Sea,'" quoted Walter softly, gazing westward with reverent eyes.

"Dad, mother – we're heading out! Better hurry, Rilla, or we shan't wait for you!" Jem called over his shoulder as he came bounding down the verandah steps. Rilla had begged to show herself off to Susan before leaving.

"My, you girls look lovely," Gertrude Oliver exclaimed as she followed Rilla out into the cool air moments later. She reflected that all the Blythe sisters really were otherworldly beauties, like a spray of slender shoots tipped with the dew of morning.

"I wouldn't be at all surprised to see you turning heads this evening, Miss Oliver," Di returned with a warm smile.

"Yes, that shade of rose is ever so striking," Nan agreed admiringly.

Gertrude waved away their compliments. "You lot are good to include me in your company. I shall be pleased enough to sit and watch you young folk whirling the night away. And what a fine night for it! I never quite trust these perfect Island days, but it would seem the weather has held with not a hint of rain in sight."

"How _could_ it rain, when everything is so jolly?" breathed Rilla, tossing her flower-crowned head. "I would have just sat down and _cried_ bitter tears disappointment, had my first party been ruined."

"Let us give thanks, then, that it has not," Di replied wryly, but Rilla took no notice. She threaded her arm through Miss Oliver's and traipsed towards the village, chattering ceaselessly.

In the heart of the Glen, they joined the Merediths and continued on their way towards the harbor, with much jest and merriment. The moon was beginning to rise, now, crisp and glowing. It glimmered on the edges of the pines and poured across the path in little pools of magic. Before them, the gulf stretched pale and serene in the light, with here and there a note of music or shred of laughter floating hauntingly across the water. The great beacon of the lighthouse swung its beam over the waves, beckoning them on. All the world was shadow and silver.

The boat race to the light was invigorating, with gusts of balmy air whizzing by. Nan tilted her face up to take in great gulps of it, delighting in its coolness. Jerry sat beside her, so close she could feel his warmth against her skin. He'd given a low whistle when he saw her that night and bent to whisper in her ear as they skimmed along the water. Nan had chosen a new dress for the occasion, a frothy peaches-and-cream concoction with lace overlay, which lent a glow to her complexion. Her hair was gathered becomingly, with the usual curls escaping at temple and neck, and adorned with a small cluster of delicate white poppies. To Jerry, she looked more than ever like an ethereal starflower plucked from some secret garden.

The dance was already in full swing as their gay little party climbed the rough-hewn steps to the pavilion. Couples whirled about in bright blurs of color to Ned Burr's lively fiddle, illuminated by the soft glow of lantern light. Rilla immediately disappeared into the throng of dancers; Jem and Faith took up residence on a secluded, shadowy section of the rocks, as did Mary Vance and Miller Douglas; Shirley followed Carl and Una to a comfortable spot in the pavilion where they could chat and observe the merriment without much fear of interruption. After greeting several friends from over-harbor, Jerry and Nan threaded their way, hand in hand, to their own step, where they could sit together, chaperoned by the white moon and low murmur of the gulf. They passed Irene Howard, arrayed in yet another ridiculous getup; though she tried to look nonchalant, there was unmistakable envy in the glance she threw them, Nan noted with a keen sense of triumph.

As the Lewisons had invited nearly every young person from the Glen, Upper Glen, and over-harbor to the spree, there was no chance of the manse sons risking a dance. Jerry could sneak one in at Glen gatherings, so long as he wasn't too boisterous about it, as nobody _really _minded, but here, he must sit the exercise out. Nan didn't care. She dearly loved to dance, but it was equally lovely to sit with Jerry like this, deep in conversation, with the music of sea and fiddle and such gaiety all around them. He caressed her hands, still resting in his, as he spoke, absently yet gently running his thumb along the smooth slenderness of her fingers. Jerry was especially handsome this evening, Nan thought, with his freshly pressed shirt and a wave of dark hair falling across his forehead. Could it really be but a matter of weeks since she was in Avonlea, agonizing over his feelings? It seemed impossible to her – life had been but a dull imitation of the marvelous palette it was now.

When it was time for supper, they joined Walter, Una, Carl, and Shirley at a long trestle table underneath a canopy of fragrant boughs. Jem and Faith were still absent. With a hint of surprise, Nan spotted Rilla with Kenneth Ford through the crowd, seated rather closely together on the other side of the pavilion. She hadn't realized Ken was over from Toronto; they'd seen very little of the Fords of late. He leaned in to speak and Rilla looked at him with eyes turned to molten starlight. Ethel Reese would be furious.

The pavilion seemed fit to burst from the loud hum of conversation swelling around them and the lively melody of the fiddle just beyond. Nan found herself having to raise her voice above the din as Una inquired about her upcoming Redmond courses – she would need to ask Susan for one of her soothing throat concoctions when they returned to Ingleside, she just knew. The Blythes always insisted Susan need not wait up for any of their party after a later night, but Susan was immovable when it came to the "children" and was always on hand, nightcap and all, to usher them to bed with a warming bite of something or other from the pantry.

Nan was hearing Una's autumn plans when, all at once, the laughter, music, and chatter simmered down to nothing. She looked around questioningly, the sudden silence throbbing in her ears. She turned to Jerry but found him focused rather sharply on the figure of Jack Elliot who had appeared out of nowhere, a slip of paper in his hand. The air felt strangely tense and alert as they waited for Jack to speak. Nan felt a thread of unease begin to uncoil in her stomach, though she couldn't say why.

"What's going on?" she whispered to Jerry, but he had no chance to answer, for Jack Elliot waved the paper over his head and announced that England had declared war on Germany. Nan felt the unease bloom into a twinge of dread. Why did no one seem moved by this news? The faces Nan saw as she glanced anxiously about the pavilion showed hardly a trace of surprise or nerves – save for Ken Ford, who had sat up straighter and no longer seemed to take notice of his surroundings, and Miss Oliver, who had turned very pale. If England being at war with Germany did not seem to trouble the rest much, then why did she no longer feel like laughing?

"Jerry…Jerry," Nan tugged on his sleeve.

Jerry, still focused on Jack Elliot, who was now surrounded by a small group, did not look at her, but grabbed her hand and led her away from the table. When they stumbled out into the soothing night air, Jem materialized, a frenzied look in his eyes, and clapped a hand on Walter's arm, who had followed them outside. Jerry did not engage them, but caught up with Jack Elliot, still keeping a steady grasp on Nan's hand.

"Is it true, then?" Jerry asked, as the music and revelry resumed around them.

"Sure is," Jack replied, a trifle self-importantly. He had never been in such demand before and was enjoying the moment, despite the gravity of the tidings he'd brought. "And word is, they'll be calling for volunteers on the morrow, or so Jem Blythe says." Some over-harbor boys pulled on his shoulder to confirm the news for themselves, leaving Jerry and Nan alone.

"Volunteers? Good heavens, you don't think such a thing is really necessary, at least not yet?" Nan questioned with wide eyes.

Jerry seemed to see her properly for the first time since the news broke and softened at the alarm in her expression. "Yes, I'm afraid matters are already much further along than anyone in the Glen has allowed for," he replied gravely, though gently. "Your father had some sense to see what was coming."

"But surely not many will be needed…from Canada?" she couldn't bring herself to give voice to the dread that stirred in her soul, couldn't utter the question that burned her throat.

"You know as well as I do, Nan, that England's army can't hold a candle to Germany's."

She knew, of course she knew, that England would need as much help as could be offered – she felt silly for holding to the same innocence Rilla had at dinner the night before – but she could still not bear to ask if Jerry would ever count himself among those who willingly went. They had discussed the possibility of a war over the last few days, debating the many nuanced points and views. Jerry had never been as jovial about the prospect as Jem had, but Nan knew him to be good and loyal. She put the thought out of her mind. She must.

Nan did not continue the conversation but stood looking out over the moonlit gulf, feeling that the spell of the evening had been broken. Wisps of fear wrapped her in a filmy shadow, blotting out her festive spirit. Many couples had re-joined the dancing, but others were beginning to climb down to their boats to bid farewell to the party. Nan was glad when Jem gave the signal to head down to their own boat. As they dipped and bobbed towards shore, a low roar swelled far out over the water, signaling a storm. So, it was to rain after all, Nan reflected dully. How fitting. It would match the turn of the evening's tide, which had so altered with the arrival of Jack and his news.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Nan awoke to gentle sunlight streaming through her delicate white curtains, a gauzy morning calm suspended in the air around her room. Children's voices floated up from the far off hollows of the Glen and a bird or two trilled in the branches of the maple grove, but within Nan's little room, all was quiet and pale gold. She lay quite still, slowly gathering her senses. There was something troubling she ought to remember, Nan knew, something that prevented her from throwing up the sash and welcoming the fine morning with open arms. She could feel its shadow lurking around the edges of her memory, but the details eluded her. Nan pinched her eyes shut and opened them again, in hopes of loosening from her thoughts the thickness of the sleeping aid her father had administered to her.

Nan's heart gave a sharp beat. _Father's sleep aid – _remembrance snapped suddenly and terribly into place. Nan covered her face and wished desperately to sink back into the lovely nothingness the medicine had provided, where, suspended above memory, her mind had softened into a calm she had not experienced since the lighthouse dance.

The call had come just before dinner the previous evening – Jem and Jerry were to ship off to Valcartier in two days' time. Nan had known their summons must come eventually, but she could not help but hope, in the most secret depths of her heart, that they would not have to go. Dr. Blythe, concerned at the dark hollows deepening under his daughter's eyes, had given her something to ensure at least one night of peaceful rest – perhaps the last for many years, Nan had thought miserably. Who could know? Talk of the war – and predictions of its end – were already run rampant, splashed across every newspaper column and laced into every conversation. Life had changed so quickly and so completely that there was simply no time for shock, and yet Nan felt herself somehow frozen while the rest of the world spun by in a blur.

The night that Jem and Jerry had gone into Charlottetown to enlist had seen her splendid, shimmering world stripped bare, dismantled piece by piece, until she was left with only the broken, colorless fragments of what should have been. Every moment since then had been a strange wash of emotions – Nan vacillated between fierce determination and a dread that left her breathless. She hadn't even had a chance to see or speak with Jerry before he'd rushed off to volunteer, which stung Nan to the core, though she despised herself for it.

How could it be that _this_ was where they found themselves? _This, _when she and Jerry, Di and Walter, and Jem and Faith were supposed to be heading merrily off to Redmond in just a few short weeks? Now, the boys were shipping off to active duty while the women were left to make what they would of the pieces of their former lives. It was a bewildering, horrible, inconceivable nightmare. Outwardly, Nan flashed a smile at everyone, and the Glen hummed with praise for her and Faith's strength; inwardly, she felt shattered. Only those closest to her could see that her plastered smiles never quite reached her eyes.

"Nothing can ever be quite the same for any of us again," Nan had said dully the night her brother and Jerry had come home in khaki – that dreadful color of soldiers. What hurt even more was seeing the fear reflected in the faces of those dearest to her, though it must be easier for the likes of Di and Rilla, who only had a brother going to the front, Nan had reflected bitterly – then hastily repented for her wickedness and wondered wearily if she were to always be bitter, now.

What was it Mr. Meredith had said when they had all gathered at Ingleside for supper? "They bravely go where we cannot, to uphold our world for the children that are to come."

He had looked right at Nan when he'd spoken of future children, his kind eyes – so like Jerry's – full of unspoken emotion, and something in Nan had snapped. She knew she must get away for a moment, and quickly, lest she crumble into a well of despair out of which she could never hope to climb. Excusing herself as discreetly as possible, she had dashed out into the night air, her tears coming in pitiful little gasps just as soon as she'd pushed through the door.

Jerry had found her on the wild, moonlit path by the graveyard, his heart catching at the sight of her.

"Let me cry, Jerry," Nan had pleaded in a small, desperate voice as he'd reached for her, "I want to be – I will be – as strong and resilient and determined as I ought…as Faith is…just not now…my face shall crack into pieces if I must put on one more stiff smile, when my heart aches as it does."

"My darling," Jerry murmured, drawing her to him. There was no laughter in his eyes, no teasing tone in his voice. He had never been as blindly optimistic about the prospect of fighting as Jem and had fought his own private battle knowing what his enlisting would – and could – mean for Nan…for them both. "I do not think you are weak," he whispered, stroking her hair.

"You must know that I'm proud, fiercely so," Nan said, pulling away enough to look at him, her eyes suddenly flashing.

Jerry had bent his head, then, and kissed her. "You mustn't think this is any easier for me," he said softly after a moment, "I had to do it, which I know you understand…but it's the thought of _you_ that gives me the strength to go and face whatever is coming."

Nan pressed her face into his shoulder, her tears marking the khaki of his uniform. "Everything has just changed so quickly…you _and_ Jem gone…and if you were to…I know I could never bear that."

"Nan, darling, don't talk like that," Jerry whispered fervently to her, seeing again the phantoms of his own fears conjured in the air before him. "This whole dreadful affair will soon be over, God willing, and Jem and I will look out for one another, I promise you."

"Oh Jerry, will it end soon, do you think?" Nan asked in a cracked voice. "I've read what some are writing…that it could be years…father disagrees, but…" she trailed off, unable to continue.

Jerry's arms tightened around her and he did not respond right away. When he did speak, it was with an effort, as though he didn't trust his voice to remain steady. "I pray it will only be months. That's the hope we must cling to, Nan."

They had held each other under the watery moonlight until the storm of Nan's anguish had finally exhausted itself and a resigned sort of calm took its place. Though her smiles returned, a small shred of anguish drew silently inward, a tiny barb that would remain lodged in her heart for many years.

Nan sighed and stirred reluctantly from her bed. Mother was beginning Red Cross work and she and Di had promised their help. Nan was glad of it. Any task was a welcome distraction – she could not afford to let her mind dwell on the fact that this was to be the one of the last days she would see Jerry or Jem for months…at the very least. Beyond that, she simply couldn't bear to think. All Nan knew was that she _must _be useful. With unsteady hands, she dressed herself.

Di was already downstairs in the living room, surrounded by heaps of cotton strewn across every available surface. Her face was pale, but determined. "Thank heavens you're up, Nan. I haven't been able to make head nor tail of this, so far."

"Where is mother?"

"I'll explain what the Red Cross sent over, girls," Anne said briskly before Di could answer, coming in from the kitchen. Behind her, Susan stood with an armful of curiously wrapped packages. "Once that's done, I'll leave you to sew for a while. Susan and I must see to it that Jem…that he has everything he needs." Her voice wavered, just a fraction, but Nan could see her mother straining against the emotion that threatened to well up in eye and throat.

"And see to it we will, do not you worry, Mrs. Dr. dear," Susan replied steadily with a nod. "I'll just be up in that blessed boy's room sorting these out ahead of you."

Nan and Di settled into a rhythm throughout the morning, slowly making order out of the mess around them. Rilla came in to lend a hand, though she was rather abysmal at the task; still, it was good to be doing something for the war effort and Nan was glad of her sisters' company. They did not laugh much, but there was comfort to be drawn from familiar conversation and their shared task. Even Rilla was less flighty than usual and strayed into italics only a handful of times – pain, it would seem, was one of the great equalizers.

Nan knew that Jerry was up at the Manse setting his own things in order, yet she couldn't keep her eyes from flitting over to the clock that ticked softly on the mantle. The day was passing quickly, far too quickly. With each chime of the hour, she felt a fresh stab of despair. This time tomorrow, Jem and Jerry would be gone. Neither she nor Di nor Rilla spoke of it, but the thought sat clearly on all of their brows. Every so often, they would catch each other's eyes and see a flicker of their own grief mirrored there.

As the sun began to mellow with the passage of the afternoon, the Ingleside living room slowly saw itself transformed from chaos into neat, orderly rows of sheets. Mrs. Blythe had finished her terrible motherly task with dry, aching eyes and returned to help her daughters. Shirley had even wandered in to offer moral support in that quiet way of his – perhaps he, too, felt the pull of familial comfort on such a day.

"Well, Jem's things are packed and a pie is in the oven," Susan remarked grimly, stalking in from the kitchen, as though the two were of equal weight in her world. "I expect the Merediths will be here soon. Supper's nothing fancy, but then I suppose none of that will matter to any of us this evening. The good Lord knows we could all use something to stick to our ribs. An empty stomach just won't do in times like these."

"I'm sure it will be splendid, Susan," Anne said through pale lips.

In truth, none of the Ingleside folk felt much like eating that day, but they knew better than to voice such a thing to Susan. It was to be their last meal, all gathered together, which would be sustenance enough in itself. A tittering sense of strained nerves permeated the atmosphere, as though even the walls and furniture knew what the morrow must bring. When the bell rang, announcing the arrival of Jerry and his family, Nan startled, hardly knowing whether to laugh or cry.

Rosemary Meredith greeted her with a comforting hug that wordlessly communicated everything they all felt but didn't speak, and John Meredith gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. Faith swept in on Jem's arm, her eyes sparking with pride – for all her sadness, Faith still dazzled, though perhaps not quite as brightly as before. Jem and Jerry both wore khaki, looking taller and more distinguished than their years. Susan's lips twisted curiously when she beheld them standing side by side, but rallied enough to usher them boisterously to the table.

"Bless you two, now you just sit down and eat a good meal, that's right. I won't send you off to war without a proper filling up."

"You're a brick, Susan," Jerry said warmly, kissing her cheek. Susan's lips twisted once more – she fled to the kitchen to retrieve the pie, though not a one had even started eating, yet.

"How are you holding up?" Faith asked Nan quietly amongst the chatter.

"My eyes seem to burn constantly and my hands jitter so, otherwise I'm as good as can be expected," Nan replied with a hint of a watery smile.

"Yes, that sounds about right," Faith sighed, clasping Nan's hands. Nan saw a flicker of emotion cross her face and knew that under her golden exterior, Faith was suffering, too.

Throughout the meal, everyone did their best to be lively and pretend the world was not falling to pieces around them. Mrs. Blythe wore the same tight smile that was becoming a regular sight on the faces of the Ingleside women. Una's sweet blue eyes seemed deeper, somehow, as though they harbored a secret emotion that would never quite spill over. Walter remained subdued, despite Carl's efforts to lighten the general mood, with occasional help from Shirley. Rilla clasped and unclasped her hands many times. Only Jem seemed truly cheerful. They all tried to avoid speaking of the war, which meant it naturally became the single topic of conversation. Underneath it all, Nan was only conscious of the feel of her hand in Jerry's, who held it firmly throughout the evening.

As the moon rose to peek through the shutters and glint off the edges of emptied plates, the little dinner party began to break apart after a fashion. Mr. and Mrs. Meredith made to linger around the fireplace with Dr. and Mrs. Blythe while the young folk chatted amongst themselves. Everyone pretended not to notice Jem and Faith slipping quickly away towards Rainbow Valley and expected Jerry and Nan to disappear, as well, for final private goodbyes. Before Jerry led Nan out into the garden, however, he sought a word with Gilbert, who drew him discreetly aside in the foyer. A small flash of a smile tinged with sadness played on Anne's lips when she saw them, but Nan, conversing quietly with Una and Shirley, did not notice.

"So, Jerry, do you still mean to…?" Gilbert asked in a low voice, glancing around to ensure they were not overheard.

"I do, sir," Jerry replied solemnly.

"Good lad." Gilbert took Jerry's hand in both of his and shook it once, then clapped him on the shoulder. His smile held the same weight of sadness as Anne's, but his eyes were creased with kindness.

"Come, take a walk with me," Jerry said when he and Nan had slipped out of Ingleside. Taking her hand – how lovely and slender it was – he drew her through the gate and onto the moonlit path. "I don't think I can stand to sit still anymore this night."

"Nor I," Nan murmured, looking about her and trying to memorize every last detail. She knew she would tuck this memory into her heart and return to it often in the days ahead. Feeling Jerry's fingers against her own, she wished again that it might always be this way. The familiar burn sprang into her throat, but she swallowed it down.

For a time, they did not speak of the fact that Jerry would be leaving the next morning, but instead rambled easily down the country lane, talking quietly to one another as ordinary lovers would. The lights of the Glen blinked and twinkled down the hill before them, like so many fireflies. The gentle stillness of the night was unbroken, save for the sweep of the restless ocean, comforting in its familiarity. The beauty of it all, offered up like a cup brimming over with the echoes of yesteryear, made Nan's heart ache.

They skirted the pond, brooding beneath little sapphire ripples, and then left the road, making for the woods that bordered Evan Boyd's field. The trees whispered under the canopy of night, lifting their branches in worship of the stars. A rustic wooden bench sat just beyond the path, twisted over with small tendrils of ivy, looking as though it had grown right out of the ground. Jerry led Nan to it and they sat together without speaking for a time.

"I'll miss all of this," Jerry said at length, glancing around them at wood and hill and harbor – all the dear places they had played as children.

"Are you afraid, Jerry?" Nan asked softly.

Jerry looked down at his hands in thought, a slight frown creasing his brow. "Yes, perhaps a little. Part of it feels like an adventure, in a way, and yet something nags at me inside, still." He turned to face her, an earnest light in his eyes. "Whatever happens over there, I want you to know that you will never be out of my thoughts."

"Oh, if only you didn't have to go," Nan cried passionately, wringing her hands. "But I know it isn't any use dwelling on such things, now."

Jerry drew her to him. "You are my life now, Nan. I'll come back to you," he whispered into her hair.

Nan breathed against him with eyes shut tight, once more committing everything to memory – the way his arms felt around her, the smell of sea and pine, the smooth baritone of his voice. When she opened her eyes again, Jerry was fumbling in his pocket, and then something glinted faintly silver in the light before her. Nan straightened – something had come over Jerry – he was looking at her with an expression she had never seen before. He gently took her hands and placed a delicate pendant necklace into them, the metal cool against her palms.

"It was my mother's," Jerry said in a low voice full of feeling, running his thumb over the single pearl that adorned it. "It's murder to ask this before I'm to go away, I know, but…I love you, Nan…I loved you before I even realized I did, ever since we were young. I know this isn't a ring, or even how this ought to go, but I didn't want to leave without giving you _something. _I want you to be my wife, Nan. Would you promise me that?"

Nan tried to speak, but found she had no voice. Low waves of emotion were sweeping through her, lifting up all the fear and despair that had wrung her heart in the past few weeks and breaking them into tiny particles of hope, which trembled down each fingertip and pooled within her eyes. The look radiating from them must have been answer enough, for Jerry put his lips to hers and kissed her deeply and fervently, his own hands trembling as they threaded through her hair. They remained that way for some time, in the white heat of moonlight, forgetting for a while the bittersweet drop in their bridal cup.

When Jerry finally bid Nan goodnight at the Ingleside gate, she did not cry. Instead, she took her happiness and her sorrow and sat with it in the oriel window upstairs, gazing out across the hills and valleys she so loved, and caressing the small pendant around her neck. There would be time enough for tears in the days to come. For now, it was enough to reflect…and to hope.

"Nan, what are you still doing up?" a voice whispered from the landing. Jem had just crept noiselessly up the stairs, his khaki cap in hand. Nan made room for him to join her.

"So Jerry's asked, has he? He told me he was going to," Jem remarked slyly at the light shining in his sister's eyes. "Good. I'm happy for you both. In fact, we discussed settling matters, as it were, while on the train back from Charlottetown. We apparently came to the same conclusion once we'd decided to enlist."

"Jem, you don't mean?" Nan asked with a little gasp.

"Yes, indeed, Nan-let, you may congratulate me. And hearty well-wishes to you, sister o' mine."

Nan threw her arms around him and they hugged tightly while the house slept around them.

"Shh, you'll wake the rest. It's funny to think, isn't it, how much has changed since we sat together on the sand at the bonfire in Avonlea?"

Nan sighed and leaned back against the window casing. "I wish we could have those days back again. Oh, I don't mean I wish for things to be different between you and Faith or Jerry and I, of course. I just have such heartache lingering beneath all the joy this night has brought. Those exquisite days in Avonlea seem like years ago."

Jem looked at her seriously for a moment. "I know this mustn't have been what you envisioned, Nan. I see it in mother's face – and Di's – even Faith's, though she tries to hide it…but I promise, this is just a grand adventure Jerry and I are embarking on, a duty we've got to see through. We'll be back in no time, I'm sure. Come on, it's high time you got some sleep," he said, smiling once more.

"Jem?"

"Mm."

"Jerry said you two would look after each other – you will, won't you?"

"Of course, Nan-let. Now come."

But as they stood to go their separate ways, Jem turned suddenly and enfolded her in a fierce hug. Gone was the laughing, boisterous boy with whom Nan had grown up – in his place was a tall, quiet, protective brother, a projection of the man who would return in four years' time, though neither of them knew it then. It lasted only a moment – "Look after yourself, Nan," he said quietly – and then passed as quickly as it had come. With one last grin, Jem gave her a wink and shut his bedroom door.


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: Thank you all for continuing to read and for your wonderful reviews. _

Chapter 11

The following day dawned dull and grey. Clouds hung heavy in a slate colored sky, blotting out any trace of sun – or was it that the sun, unable to face such a day, had hidden her face in a curtain of sorrow? Nan, pausing by the little windowed nook on the landing, where mere hours before she had traded whispered secrets with Jem, wondered as much as she glanced at the storm gathering over the gulf. The world, it seemed, was grieving, too. It was just as well.

In spite of it all, Nan felt strangely calm. She had slept soundly from sheer exhaustion, sunk in a dreamless sleep – life had afforded her that small mercy, at least – and although she was pale, her resolve held firm. Jem and Jerry were going away and she would bid them farewell with dry eyes. The pervasive ache in her heart was simply hers to accept…to accept and to nurture, if she could. This was to be her task, now. She would strive to meet it with the same courage her darling Jerry and dearest Jem showed in going…though how she was ever to keep her hands from trembling so, Nan didn't know.

Downstairs, the rest of the family moved about restlessly, as if wary of stillness. The air hummed with strained emotion, which settled uncomfortably over the furniture like dust, yet all wore cheerful smiles and endeavored to behave as if nothing very out of the ordinary were happening. The effect of this was rather more painful than if the tears that simmered just beneath the surface had been allowed to flow freely.

"I can't imagine I've missed a thing – you and Susan have been splendid, mother," Jem was saying as he strode confidently from the kitchen, a pack slung over one shoulder. He looked altogether handsome and young – painfully young – in his cap and uniform. Mrs. Blythe and Susan trailed after him, as though they were little ducklings afraid to let him out of their sight.

"Alright then, Rilla?" Nan whispered to her pale slip of a sister, who was standing by the banister looking lost.

Rilla threaded her arms around Nan's waist and sighed. "He does look _so _distinguished, doesn't he?"

A sad smile twisted the corners of Nan's lips – the tremble in Rilla's voice was evident. Ignoring the burn that sprang to her own throat, she squeezed Rilla to her. "He does."

"We should be off if we're to catch the Merediths," Dr. Blythe remarked with a glance at the clock.

Something like despair gripped Nan at this announcement, and not for the last time did she wish she could pinch her eyes shut and wake again to find that this was nothing but a terrible dream. However, it was not to be. She was trapped inside this glaring new reality, one where her mother's laughter sounded hollow and Walter brooded about like a ghost in his own home. Her heart beat unsteadily, but Nan fixed as bright an expression as she could conjure firmly on her face – the time had come and she _must_ be strong.

Di and Nan walked hand in hand until they joined the Merediths, whereupon Jem took Faith's arm and Jerry took Nan's. Jerry flashed her a half-smile that bore testament to what this morning meant to him, and for one awful moment, Nan felt the tears would surely overtake her. Breathing deeply of the salt air, she turned her face to the breeze and uttered a silent prayer that her resolve would hold firm. Jerry covered her hand with his own and she clasped it until her fingertips went white. They all spoke evenly and matter-of-factly, as though they were nothing more than two families taking a casual stroll together – if the conversation _was_ glossed over with a sheen of forced cheer, nobody gave voice to it. Each was determined to send their boys away with courage and lightness of expression, if not of heart.

The Glen St. Mary station fairly hummed with life; indeed, the platform was crowded with more people than Nan had ever before seen at any Glen or over-harbor party. Although she was surprised, she couldn't help but feel a small swell of pride at the vigorous welcome that greeted Jem and Jerry's arrival – it was odd how many sensations a person was capable of experiencing in the span of a moment! Nan wondered how much more could possibly swirl through her before she would burst.

Time sped up, then – if such a thing were possible – as well-wishers streamed by to slap backs and offer handshakes to the two young soldiers. Foolish girls whose own brothers were very much not in uniform simpered and sighed; gossipy old matrons buzzed around the Blythe and Meredith women, with several kissing Nan's cheek and offering syrupy platitudes of thinly veiled pity. She kept her chin up and her responses even – "Nan Blythe is as proud as ever," Mrs. Crawford muttered disapprovingly, before catching the doctor's stern glare. Only dear Mrs. Marshall Elliott gave her true comfort, crushing Nan and Faith to her, each in turn, and whispering that they were strong, levelheaded women.

"It's a shame it's come to this – did I ever think I'd see such a day? – but the good Lord will look after Jem and Jerry, just you mind that."

"Thank you, Miss Cornelia."

"You girls keep your heads up, that's right. I'll be up often to check in at Ingleside, especially once you young folk have returned to Redmond, so your mother will have some extra company, Nan. I hope to see Rosemary there, too. We women must stick together."

As Miss Cornelia moved on to speak with Susan, Nan glanced around her in a daze. It was all passing too quickly – in just a matter of minutes, the train would sound its arrival. She observed the faces flickering in and out of view, many she knew and some she didn't. With a shudder, Nan wondered how many more men would go before the end…how many had already been marked by the invisible hand of death? But no, she mustn't think such things.

The train whistle sounded. There, it was time! Nan's heart gave a painful leap and her palms began to sweat – still, she smiled wider until her cheeks ached. Jerry turned to embrace Mr. Meredith, who whispered something in his ear, then gave a kiss to Rosemary, Faith, and Una. Carl cuffed his brother good-naturedly on the shoulder. Dr. Blythe came to shake hands while Jem held Mrs. Blythe, whose expression was deathly pale, yet calm. Everywhere Nan looked, there was a crush of people saying farewell. She was vaguely aware of Shirley squeezing her arm before Jem bounded up and enfolded her in a tight embrace.

"Take care, Nanlet," he said brightly.

Nan hugged him as fiercely as she could, her eyes clamped shut. "Be safe, Jem – I'll miss you so!"

"I'll write as often as I can, dear sister."

Nan wanted to say more, but he had already turned to Faith. As the train whistle sounded once more and Jem embraced Faith in front of everyone, Jerry came to her and, with shining eyes, pressed a kiss to her pale lips. It was not a lingering kiss and escaped the notice of the crowd – somehow making it all the sweeter—but in it was contained all the depth and earnestness of Jerry's feeling for this slip of a woman he so adored. Holding her against his shoulder, he spoke to her in low, caressing tones – in the years to come, the memory of his embrace and the warmth of his words were to be a balm for Nan's spirit in her hours of darkness. She was trembling and her eyes burned dreadfully, but they were clear – she could take comfort in that, at least. They held each other's gaze a moment – Nan gave a slight nod and a fervent smile – Jerry kissed her hand – and then he was off.

Nan clutched at the small pearl nestled at her throat as the train began to pull away. Di and Mrs. Blythe were beside her. Time seemed stretched, now, as she watched Jem and Jerry recede. There were waves and final cheers and still more smiles (Nan was certain their faces must surely crack with the effort), Dog Monday was howling, and then – finally – they were gone. A sense of deflation settled over the platform – the crowd began to disperse – and Nan felt the breath go out of her.

There was nothing more to be done.

Mr. and Mrs. Blythe quietly turned to go, as did Mr. and Mrs. Meredith. The others stood motionless for a moment, looking dazed.

"Thank heavens that's over," Nan remarked softly at last, coming to herself and linking arms with Faith.

"I'd been dreading it for days…now that it's happened, I feel rather helpless. Restless, even," Faith replied with a flicker of defiance. She gazed at their surroundings – at the far sea rolling under an overcast sky and at the familiar farms and fields that they knew so well – and sighed. "It seems odd, doesn't it, that this should all be as it was before…when everything has changed?"

"Yes. It does make me wonder – the trees and the meadows – can they sense how we have suffered these past weeks? Surely the wind must carry our fears and joys to them and the soil drink it all in."

Faith looked thoughtful. "They must," she mused, "How could they not? After all, it won't be long until much of Europe – the people, the earth – will feel the tremors of war."

Nan shivered. She thought of Walter, who hurt so when any living thing was wounded. He had grown angry whenever any of their acquaintance minimized the conflict into which their world had fallen, disagreeing with even their father that it would likely be over in a matter of months. Perhaps he understood things that others could not. Nan shivered again, a sudden weariness overtaking her. She and Faith walked on in silence – eased, if not comforted, by the bond of their shared pain, the pain that united all the wives, daughters, sisters and sweethearts of that time. The hills and red ribbon roads dozed in late morning stillness, broken only by the occasional trill of birdsong from nearby evergreens and the ever-present swish of the tide. The world, it seemed, did intend to carry on.

"Will you be up tomorrow, then?" Nan inquired when they reached the old Manse gate. "I rather like the idea of us women sticking together, as Mrs. Marshall Elliott said. Perhaps you could join Di and me as we organize ourselves with Red Cross work. I simply cannot sit around and do nothing," she said tensely, eyes sparkling earnestly.

"Of course!" Faith exclaimed, squeezing Nan's hand. "We may not be able to fight Germans on the front, but we can certainly do our bit from home…for Jem and Jerry." Her eyes misted over at this, but she flashed a fierce grin at Nan before reaching for the rusted latch, the hinges creaking with age as the gate swung open. Beneath all of Faith Meredith's golden beauty coursed a strength that one couldn't help but admire. As Nan wandered up the quiet hill alone, she reflected on Faith's sentiment.

"Yes…for Jem and Jerry," Nan whispered to herself, her thoughts flying to a train swiftly winding its way toward Valcartier.

After the strain of the morning, Ingleside lay nestled in a haze of calm. Walter had disappeared somewhere and the rest of the family moved quietly about. Susan seemed to be channeling all her unshed tears into an aggressive baking offensive, as the rich, comforting scents that filled the house bore testament. Nan herself still felt subdued, somehow, though she came dreadfully close to weeping when Dr. and Mrs. Blythe drew her softly aside to embrace her over her and Jerry's engagement. Their joy, though watery from fatigue, was no less sincere, and Nan felt all the bittersweetness of the moment.

"Such occasions should be celebrated with the purest gladness," Anne smiled sadly, thinking back to her own happy engagement in that faraway apple-green summer, where the winds of youthful hope blew freely.

Gilbert seemed to sense what she was thinking, for he put a gentle arm around his daughter's shoulder. "Jerry told me he always intended to ask you, Nan, but with the war, well…I'm just sorry the circumstances aren't what they ought to be."

Later, when the doctor was called away on an urgent case – "Mrs. Reese _might_ hold off on having her baby for just one more day and let the man remain with his family, after sending a son to war," Susan sniffed with indignation – Nan curled up with her thoughts by the living room fire. Di joined her, and together they silently watched the firelight flickering lazily across the braided rug.

"I've had a letter from Jack Wright," Di said suddenly in a low voice.

Nan snapped out of her reverie, something like her old spirit radiating from face and voice. "You never! Oh, I was _so _hoping he would take my bait."

"Nan Blythe, you didn't!"

Nan's laughter sounded foreign to her ears, but the release was a comfort. "It was nothing very forward, I just made sure to mention you several times in my last letter."

"Have you heard from him lately?" Di queried a trifle hesitantly.

Nan sighed and glanced down at her hands. "Only once. Jack has been – different – since he heard about Jerry. Oh, he's too kind to let on, of course, but I could tell all the same. He's such a nice boy, I…well, it truly warms my heart that he wrote to you." She slipped her arm through Di's.

Di searched her twin's face. "Don't be too hard on yourself Nan. Just remember that. Besides, you have Jerry and I know what that means to you."

Nan buried her face in Di's shoulder. "Oh, you're a dear, Di. I don't deserve you – truly!" – this, as Di scoffed – "Jerry does mean a great deal to me," she remarked softly, reaching for her pearl pendant once more, "It feels all the sweeter…and all the more frightening…now."

Di kissed the top of her head and they sat in silence, again, listening to the crackle of the flames.

"You know, you should write to Jack, Nan," Di said after a moment, causing Nan to look up at her askance. "No, really, we've always all been chums…respond to his letter. And don't worry about me – thanks to Jerry coming to his senses, I don't have to worry about you trying to steal Jack again."

They both laughed at this, shaking off the fears and worries of the morning, if only for a time. Nan took heart, reflecting that perhaps not _all_ of life's color had gone out of the world. Their spirits remained buoyed throughout the remainder of the day – not in the flashy, boisterous way of days gone by, but in an even, steady way that lent a quiet strength to them both. Only when Nan laid down to sleep that night did her resolve finally crumble. Alone in her room, surrounded by thought and memory and the palest of moonlight, she wept into her pillow. After some time, she felt Di's arms encircle her and the two sisters remained thus, as their tears flowed freely at last.


End file.
